


Sounds Echo the Absurd

by Cap_Sweet_And_Salty_Sadness



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternative Universe - 17th Century, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bucky Barnes Has PTSD, Canon Disabled Character, Celtic Mythology & Folklore, Demons, First Kiss, Forest Sex, Graphic Description, Graphic Description of Corpses, Haunting, Horror, Hurt/Comfort, Inspired by Folkore, M/M, Magical Realism, Mystery, Mythology References, New World, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Paganism, Protective Steve Rogers, Rituals, Sacrifice, Steve Needs a Hug, Steve Rogers is too curious for his own good, Steve Rogers-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-15
Updated: 2020-02-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:00:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 27,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22268320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cap_Sweet_And_Salty_Sadness/pseuds/Cap_Sweet_And_Salty_Sadness
Summary: 17th century. Steve Rogers goes to the New World with a group of Europeens in the hopes of a new, better life. They settle on the edge of a forest, in what would become Massachusetts. He quickly finds his place as a carpenter, and he may or may not have been staring at the Barnes' son a few too many times.But as months pass, spirits and demons from the forest start to emerge. Steve can feel their eyes on him, can hear them skitter in his house at night. What if leaving offerings for them come to not be enough anymore? What if they want more?But something… there’s something in the room with him, he’s sure of it. His mind quickly gets rid of the sleepy haze as he remains immobile in his bed, listening closely, his limbs growing numb. His face’s freezing, too, it’s so cold in his room, yet he’s sure he’s fueled the fire to last until the morning.He jerks away when there’s a tap on the wall followed by a deep hiss coming from the corner right by his head. He’s scared to get his hands out from under the covers to light the candle on his bedside. He feels there’s something crouched beside his bed, and that this thing can hurt him.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Peggy Carter/Daniel Sousa, Tony Stark/Thor
Comments: 44
Kudos: 93





	1. a village blossoms to life

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so excited to be sharing this with you! I started this story a while back, in September I believe, and finished it for NaNoWriMo, so I should be able to update it fairly regularly. It's horror, graphic stuff happens but that'll be later in the story and I'll put the appropriate tags and warnings in due time. This first chapter is an introduction to the universe.
> 
> Disclaimer: Period liberties were taken for this story. I went back and forth between trying to respect it or not, and finally decided that this is science-fiction, I can do whatever I want. The dialogue doesn’t respect proper period vocabulary either, there’s no way my non-native english speaker self would know how to write that without hours of research and I don’t think it’s relevant for this story.
> 
> The title is a lyric from ["Cradle of Forest"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yJlmBYpRCu0) by Akira Yamaoka - which sadly isn't available on spotify, so I couldn't add it to my [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/679AXYM1PPmgruMpfjt0qQ?si=j7JTWCEsQ7ipkboO2MhzKw).
> 
> Enjoy!

**Prelude**

“The forest is so beautiful. It’s difficult to imagine it being so dangerous.”

“Beautiful things can also be dangerous, Buck,” Steve says as he gently positions his limbs. Bucky lets himself be manhandled on his right side with a small smile, his pale eyes’ attention solely focused on the blond man. His nakedness doesn’t seem to bother him, with nothing to protect him from the ground but a white sheet. He leans his head into his hand, shifts his hips a bit, his left leg hiding his groin and enhancing the curve of his butt.

Steve sits down directly on the ground, his trousers already dirty by his work as a carpenter. He hasn’t drawn anything in months, and judging by his sketchbook, the last thing was a view of the forest from his freshly completed house. 

“Animal noises can be scary at night, when there’s nothing else to focus on.”

“Or when you’re from the city. Not many of us were used to this rural life before, Irish boy,” Bucky winks at him, and Steve rolls his eyes. It’s a subject that he frequently teases him about.

The habits quickly come back as he begins to sketch the general lines of Bucky’s strong body. All the villagers have been working hard for the past months, but Bucky is always the first one to volunteer to help, whatever it is, always the first one up to tend to the crops with Mr. Barton. He’s such a good man, and yet he believes that he’s not as capable as the others just because he’s missing a hand. 

Steve stares at the stump, laid against his side. To him it shows how he persevered through his hardships and came on the other side still kicking. Steve draws him as he is, beautiful and perfect to his eyes.

“I’m getting cold,” Bucky complains after an hour. Steve can see the goosebumps on his thigh, soft dark hairs raised. He puts his charcoal and sketchpad to the side, wipes his stained hands on his pants.

He walks over to him, laughs when he’s pulled closer with a strong arm. Bucky pushes his face against his stomach and sighs. Steve places his hands over his cold ears to warm them up. 

“You’re really cold, why didn’t you say something before?”

“I wanted to let you finish.”

Steve clicks his tongue in annoyance. “I don’t want you to freeze to death. Come on, let’s put back your clothes on.”

“In a moment.” Bucky draws him down, kisses him thoroughly. Steve finds himself on his lap with his shirt tucked out of his trousers, gasping as Bucky nibbles and licks at his pulse under his jawline. He presses down on his hardening cock and rubs himself against it until Bucky unlace his trousers and dive his hand inside with a deep moan.

He frees him, strokes him until Steve is rock hard and panting. Bucky moves him on his back, presses open-mouthed kisses down his collarbones and his pectorals, licks his nipples, ravishing him with his teeth and tongue. Steve is sure to have marks for at least a week. Bucky trails down his stomach and glances up at him with a wicked look before he’s taking his cock in his hot, wet mouth. 

He sucks him like a starving man, takes him down to the root and dribbles saliva everywhere. He’s sloppy and enthusiastic and Steve doesn’t need much before he’s coming hard with a loud groan, hands clenching on the sheet underneath them. 

“You’re ruthless,” he pants, gasps at the fingers probing his hole.

“And you’re gorgeous when you come undone.” Bucky opens him with his fingers slick with oil. He’s awed by Steve moaning under him, thighs shamelessly spread open, but Steve knows he keeps an ear out for any movement in the trees. They’re away from the village, but not that far.

Steve is impatient, and he’s started thrusting himself down on his fingers, seeking more. “Come on, Buck, I’m ready.” He’s got a lovely flush down his chest, and with the hazy expression on his pretty face, he looks good enough to eat.

Bucky slides into him with a groan stuck in his throat, his normally steel eyes blown wide with pleasure. Steve runs the pads of his fingers over his swollen lips and Bucky sucks on his thumb as he fucks him with his hand under his ass to have a deeper angle. Steve cants his hips to help him, already seeing stars with every wave of pleasure coursing through him. 

He throws his head back, seeing the forest upside them around them. Steve notices a glimmer between the trees, invisible eyes peeking at them, and he lets out a strangled moan, closing his eyes.

“I’m so close,” Bucky says, changing position to lean over him, rolling his hips into his as he buries his head in his neck. Steve scratches his back and wraps his legs around his waist, biting his shoulder when he comes in him with a muffled shout, Steve following not long after with Bucky tugging at him in his post-orgasm haze.

They cuddle afterwards in a tangle of limbs, but the ground isn’t that comfortable and Steve is getting cold. He runs his hand through the shorter strands of hair on the back of Bucky’s head, kissing his nose when he turns his head towards him. He squints it, pretending he doesn’t like that, but Steve knows better.

The bell announcing dinner startles them. They’ve been in the forest for most of the afternoon, and now that he looks at the sky, he notices dusk is near approaching.

“Let’s go back, I’m hungry.” 

“You’re always hungry,” Bucky mumbles, but starts dressing up.

  
  
  
  
  
**I. a village blossoms to life**  
  


Steve doesn't have much left of his ma. She dies on the ship, a few weeks before they arrive to the New World. Steve is a wreck, with nothing to do but wait for the pain to fade and land to surface at the horizon. He doesn’t draw because it reminds him too much of her. She's been the one who's always encouraged him to expand his artistic talent. She wished so much for him to show off his art, but then things got complicated, and well, here he is without her.

Steve can barely remember the days following her death except for this feeling of emptiness inside his chest, everytime he remembers he won’t see her until his own death. He cries himself many times to sleep when no one can see him, soaking through his thin pillow. 

He can't believe they've come all this way for nothing, and now he's alone on foreign lands. Well, not as alone as his thoughts sometimes whisper at him. Many people come to him to wish him their sympathies, assure him they're here if there's anything he needs. 

There isn't that many people his age, but Natasha has taken to sit with him on the deck, not saying much but letting him lean on her shoulder when the world feels too heavy. Someone else invites him to his family's cabin to play cards with them, and although he's felt uncomfortable at first being surrounded by a tight group of six people, the Barnes make him relax and help to ease up the remaining journey. 

James " _ call me Bucky _ " is very friendly and they quickly get along. He’s so much different than Steve, and yet he’s able to read his moods and knows what to say to get Steve out of his head. They keep each other’s company most of the time. H e doesn’t make fun of him when he starts hacking his lungs out after exerting himself for too long. He retrieves his pipe for him and lights it for him when Steve’s shaking too much to do it himself. He has many health conditions, but asthma and hay fever are the most common and troublesome for him. 

One bibulous night Bucky shares the story behind how he’s lost a part of his left arm, and well, Steve has much more respect for him afterwards.

Steve asks to keep her corpse down in the hull to wait to give her a proper burial. Bruce takes care of her and puts her on salt until they reach the land. It's a somber affair, done in the first messy days of their arrival. Her belongings remain in a small box she's put together in her final days, knowing well there wasn't anything to be done for her. Steve can't bring himself to open it, and it remains in one of his bags until he tucks it somewhere in his house, to be forgotten.

It’s a peculiar experience to witness a village blossoms to life before one’s very own eyes. 

In the midst of a tall grassed plain hugged by a dense forest, a group of people settle down. Trees are cut into boards to build houses big enough for two, four, six. It’s tedious to build one cabin, let alone a dozen, and for almost four months, Steve sleeps in a tent to let families be together. He doesn’t need much, barely has anything, so he doesn’t mind. He’s come to the New World with barely anything and only has himself to take care of, in a small community who came into the wilderness with the hope of a new, better life on this side of the Atlantic. 

He helps others build themselves a new home. He’s not the strongest here, is being made fun of his small frame constantly by the other men until he shows how capable he is and puts more weight than some of them. He has more knowledge about carpenting than the others and quickly become in charge of the constructions. It’s clear to everyone he’s lived a rough life, but he knows how to plan foundations and frames that don’t fall apart, so no one asks him where he trained or who taught him.

As he saws and hammers and planes the wood, he remembers the many days he spent in the workshop of another of his ma’s lovers, watching the man whose name he doesn’t remember work the wood between his hands. There was a devotion akin to an artist to their work, one Steve had found later in his own drawings, and many afternoons had been spent watching in fascination while his ma had been off working one job or another. Never had he thought this knowledge would become detriment to show his worth in this new settlement.

His stubbornness and desire to prove himself costs him when he starts having a high fever that confines him to bed for a few days. Only Miss Carter, a strong-willed woman whose husband lost a leg in the war against France, is brave enough to step inside his barely holding tent to deliver him food and some Virginia snakeroots he chews on to alleviate his fever. 

In May he’s offered to share a room with the Barnes once their house is completed. Ms Barnes keeps giving him a second serving at dinner, hoping filling him up will help with his health, and with his hunger satiated for the first time in his life, he grows. His clothing becomes too small with new muscles born from working until there’s no more daylight every day, and it’s when he notices he doesn’t need to look that much up to keep eye contact with Bucky that he realises he’s a few inches or perhaps a palm taller.

He doesn’t remember the last time he’s held a charcoal, and he misses it. He keeps finding beauty everywhere in this new environment, in the new fauna and the bare fields and the sun filtering through the trees, in the people he’s got to call neighbours now, and he tries to memorise it in his head to put it to paper later, but it never comes and he forgets as he settles in his bed, exhausted.

He builds his house on the edge of the forest, secluded from the center of the village but not too far off. It’s not a big thing, a main room with a smaller bedroom and an outhouse at the back. 

It’s home. 

Bucky is one of the few who helps him build it, along with Falsworth and a younger man who goes by Junior. He’s quiet but works hard, so it’s fine by Steve. Once they finish and he’s settled in, he starts receiving commissions for furniture, big cabinets and cupboards and tables, even beds and dressers, but also to build stables and a brick town hall they can use as a refuge for emergencies. 

It doesn’t necessary require his artistic side, but he contributes to the expansion of the village and he’s surrounded by a small team who help him put his building plans to reality. 

He completes the other requests on his own, surrounded by his tools on the side of his house. It’s tedious work in a quiet place, surrounded by the sounds of the village and the forest at his back.

Steve is using a trying plane on the top of a dresser, making sure it’s as smooth as it can be before he starts buffering it, when Bucky appears from the side of the house with a tray. His shirt’s front laces are untied, exposing his collarbones, and Steve is sure the girls of the village have been giggling a lot today.

“It’s almost dark, you know, I don’t understand how you can still see what you’re doing.”

He’s right. Steve straightens up, his back cracking in a few places as he does so. Bucky has brought him dinner.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he gestures at the meal even as his stomach rumbles loudly. 

“Ma kept rambling about you’re not taking care of yourself, so I thought it might appease her.”

“Oh, so it was only for her you’re doing this?” Steve smirks, accepts the tray and puts it down in the middle of the bumpy surface of the dresser. When he looks at Bucky again, he’s sporting something resembling a shy expression, which isn’t how Bucky normally acts around others. This is only for Steve. This secret dance that they’re doing since they stayed in the same house, it’s a silent language much older than they are, and Steve is thrilled to know where it will lead.

“Not exactly.” Bucky gives him a smirk that reaches his pale eyes and radiates a boyish charm Steve has a hard time hiding its effect on him. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Sure thing.” He watches him leave with his lip stuck between his teeth. He sighs and notices he didn’t bring him utensils, probably to force him to go back inside and stop working for the night.

A few days later and he wakes up in the middle of the night with a fork under his pillow. The knife is sitting on top of the stove, like someone, or something, put it there. This isn’t the first time it’s happened. At first he thinks he’s started sleep-walking, so he ties himself to the bed. He discovers his tools in the ashes of the fireplace the next morning.

His ma raised him to respect everyone around him, and his curiosity wins over his fear. Whatever is messing with his things hasn’t harmed him, which means they’re not evil. He leaves small offerings in a bowl like his ma used to do; scraps of food, small sculptures he’s made with leftover wood, even sketches. They’re gone in the morning, and nothing is misplaced after he starts doing it. 

There’s still noise coming from the forest at night, noise that Steve never heard back in Ireland, but no one knows about the fauna here, let alone what kind of sounds they make. Sometimes, Steve feels like he’s being watched while he’s working outside, but he doesn’t see anything when he looks back.

It’s a common decision not to venture into the forest at night, not until they know better what lives and lurks within, but Steve knows it’s partly superstitions and fear of what predators might lurk in those woods. 

They trade furs and knowledge of the land with the autochtones in exchange of mirrors and brandy, jewelry shiny enough to make them believe it’s more valuable than it is. Steve thinks it’s a shame to exploit them in such a way, but the village needs a way to know their surroundings and sustain itself beside what the hunters bring back. They’ve exhausted their food supplies from the ship over the few months they spent building the households, and a diet primarily of meat certainly can’t be sustainable for long, let alone healthy.

They plant trees. Plum trees from split seeds and apple trees from small cuttings that won’t give fruits for years, and yet they’re their first accomplishment. Future generations will be able to harvest apples and plums where nothing grew before. They plow and till a field to prepare it for seeds, create furrows into the soil, the sun beating over their shoulders and neck. Steve tries to help in the morning, but many people are still requiring furniture so he’s more or less prohibited from helping by Clint.

Every week or so, the whole village gathers for a meal eaten on a long table Steve built. It’s installed in the center plaza near, where they plan on establishing a market soon, the skeleton of the town hall sitting further away. Mr. Falsworth has started on the pavement, but it takes a lot of time and therefore isn’t complete in mid-June. It’s still looking better by the day, Steve observes as he makes the short walk from his house to the plaza the next day. He always feels bad he arrives empty-handed while all the families bring fresh bread and stews and pickled vegetables and tarts. They wouldn’t have anything to eat on if it wasn’t for him, they assure him, and he hopes that it’s enough.

“Stevie!” Bucky greets him with a large smile. He’s drinking from a mug when he comes closer, which he offers Steve. It’s plum wine from Mrs Barnes, famous in the village for its potency. Steve takes a small sip, the sweet bitter taste making his mouth ache and his throat burn on the way down. 

“Thank you. I think I needed that.”

“Of course. Look at your hands.” Bucky puts down his mug and takes his hands in his to take a closer look at the dried cuts on his fingers and knuckles. Steve’s heart stutters. There’s people around them, families sitting down. “Did you at least wash yourself before coming here?” 

“I, uh, was working on the last details Mrs. Stark’s countertop, I didn’t think it’d take this long, so I had to hurry here.”

Bucky shakes his head with a fond look. “Come on then, let’s get those cleaned at least.  _ Mamă _ , we’ll be right back.”

“Alright, but we’re about to eat,  _ dragă _ .”

The hand pump isn’t too far off, beside where they plan on having a pasture that will require water. Each morning the families would fill their bucket here to use at home. Steve doesn’t know much about it, and he’s heard talks of wooden pipes to possibly redirect water. That would make life easier if each house had a water system.

Bucky starts cranking the lever with his hand and lifting it by bracing it in the crook of his other arm’s elbow, the muscles in his forearms bulging with the effort. Water comes out in a rush, spilling into a wooden bucket at their feet. Steve washes his hands, hissing when he reopens one of the small wounds. He wipes them on his shirt, possibly the less dirty part of him.

“Let me see,” Bucky says, takes his hands once again. Steve tries not to shiver under his gentle care. “Ah, it’s not too bad. Your hands are so callosus.” He swipes his thumb over a hard callus on his palm near his wrist, nowhere near his new cuts. Then, looking up at Steve through his thick lashes, he bends down to kiss it.

Steve stops breathing, taken by surprise. They stare at each other for a long moment. A bird chirps nearby, and with newfound determination, Steve turns his hand to tug on Bucky’s wrist, making his intention clear. Their first kiss is hesitant, unsure, and so much better than Steve has imagined. Bucky’s lips taste sweet from the wine, and when Steve wants to come closer, he accidentally hits the bucket, splashing the water all over the hem of their pants and in the grass.

Bucky laughs breathlessly, his eyes so blue in the late afternoon sun, and Steve kisses him again. 

They sit beside each other at the meal, their thighs pressed together. Steve tries not to look at him too often, but every time he steals a glance his way, Bucky is already looking back.

“Focus on the food,” Steve murmurs at him, and Bucky’s smile widens.

“I’m looking at dessert,” he says, which does nothing to ease Steve’s blushing. He hopes people believe it’s because of a mix of the heat and alcohol, but Steve has barely touched his drink, too overwhelmed and excited with this new development. 

Bucky walks him back to his house. The insects sounds are soothing at nightfall. Steve feeds the fireplace for it to last throughout the night. Bucky comes behind him and pulls him in his arms, presses his nose behind his ear.

“Is this alright?” He asks him, his breath tickling the sensitive skin of his neck. Steve turns around and kisses him, his previous shyness completely gone. They share deep kisses that slowly turn hungrier and they end up on Steve’s narrow bed, their feet dangling off the edge. Steve can’t get enough of Bucky’s taste, and the heated look he gives him when they catch their breath, he wants to capture it on paper.

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathes out, following the curve of his eyebrow with his thumb. They cuddle some more, exchanging more kisses, but don’t go any further. They’re both content laying in each other’s arms.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you, what is that?” Bucky later points at the altar he put together near the fireplace. For a second, Steve is hesitant. Has he been the only one visited by those invisible jesters?

“It’s my offerings to appease the forest spirits.”

“The what now?”

Steve frowns. “Surely you’ve noticed things getting misplaced or simply vanishing at your house?”

“Stevie, I live with five other persons. Not a day goes by without something going amiss.” 

“Maybe it’s because I’m so close to the forest. They’re not malevolent as far as I understand, and ever since I started willingly giving them things, they haven’t bothered my belongings since.”

Bucky purses his lips. “You never mentioned it before.”

“Well, I don't see myself going around to ask if anyone have missing kitchenware. What would people think of me?”

He closes his eyes when Bucky starts carding his fingers in his hair, silent for a moment. “All I ever hear about you from the others is praise, Stevie,” he finally says, “just like I have a high esteem of you.”

Steve smiles. “Is this what you call it?”

“I like you. Very much, if you must know.”

“As I you,  _ mo leannan. _ ”

Bucky butchers the term of endearment as he tries to repeat it, but it’s sweet of him.

“What does it mean?”

“My sweetheart.” Steve takes his hand to kiss his knuckles, and Bucky blushes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on [Tumblr](http://cap-sweet-and-salty-sadness.tumblr.com/)


	2. there’s something in the room

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few days later, some of the villagers take on an expedition through the forest for hunting and do some reconnaissance. The group, fairly large, consists Thor, Peggy, Natasha, Clint, Bruce and Tony, Bucky and Steve. Clint carries a longbow at his back, and Steve remembers he was in the military before. Natasha is also carrying a flintlock, its length almost the same as her thighs.
> 
> “Stay close together, it’s best not to stray from the group,” Thor warns them, then takes the lead, his broad shoulders and blond head easy to spot between the natural shadows of the trees. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/679AXYM1PPmgruMpfjt0qQ?si=j7JTWCEsQ7ipkboO2MhzKw) for this story (I also fixed the link in the previous chapter!)

A few days later, some of the villagers take on an expedition through the forest for hunting and do some reconnaissance. The group, fairly large, consists Thor, Peggy, Natasha, Clint, Bruce and Tony, Bucky and Steve. Clint carries a longbow at his back, and Steve remembers he was in the military before. Natasha is also carrying a flintlock, its length almost the same as her thighs.

“Stay close together, it’s best not to stray from the group,” Thor warns them, then takes the lead, his broad shoulders and blond head easy to spot between the natural shadows of the trees. 

They’ve been in the forest before, to gather wood and wild berries, but not this far. They use long daggers forged by Tony, the smith of the village, to create a path through the thick leaves and branches. It’s a slow process and it gets dark quickly with the tall trees obscuring the sky, so Bruce and Thor light up their lantern. 

The flame barely carries through. 

Steve walks behind Tony, with Bucky being the last of the line behind him. Steve has wanted to be a part of the expedition with the hope to sketch some new species of birds or perhaps one of those big animals the autochtones described in the simple dialect they’ve established, a mix of both languages.

“There wasn’t as much noise back in London,” Tony complains, looking up as his voice brings a colourful bird out of its nest. 

Peggy places a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it. He’s settled here with his mother, and no one really knows what happened with his father. Someone has dared to ask over too much whiskey, and Tony has yet to have crafted anything for them to this day. Peggy seems to be the only one in the confidence, her husband and her being good friends with the Stark family.

Bruce documents the animals carefully. He’s well-schooled about nature and fauna, the reference when it’s came time to plan what to plant for a large harvest. His family must’ve been very rich, to afford such long scholarship, and Steve wonders yet again what brought him on the other side of the Atlantic. He himself has been homeschooled by his mother, learning his letters only because she knew them. Not everyone in his natal village had the same opportunity. 

Thor raises a hand to silence the low chat going on.

“There’s a large beast up ahead,” he warns the others. Clint crouches in the bushes, followed by Natasha, and the others imitate them. Steve can’t see ahead, but he inspects their surroundings, just in case. Bucky is making sure their rear remains safe.

“It looks like a bear,” Clint says.

“But smaller, and it has a spot on its back,” Natasha adds. She has sharp eyes, to see details from this distance.

“I believe it’s a wolverine,” Bruce quietly says, adjusting his glasses. It’s a miracle he manages to keep them on his face, while Steve has almost been knocked out by a few branches at this point, one time even losing his footing.

“It could feed us for at least a week,” Tony suggests, already thinking ahead.

Bruce scribbles something in his book, then nods at Clint. 

“Let me get in position,” Natasha says, then disappears. Steve looks around, but there’s no more trace of her. 

“You said you were from the circus, but you didn’t mention her being in it as well,” Steve says, impressed. 

“She wasn’t,” Clint smirks.

Bucky clearly is thinking the same thing. Steve and him share a confused look.

Clint takes his bow and notches an arrow. He pulls back the bowstring and waits for a signal. It doesn’t take long. Natasha pokes her head through the tree behind the wolverine to nod at him, and so he takes a breath, steadies his hand, and lets the arrow fly. It hits the animal in the neck, then Natasha jumps down and finishes it off.

“What was she doing before settling here again?” Bucky inquires after a silence.

“You can ask her yourself but best if you offer her brandy first,” Clint replies, and Steve files the information for later.

Thor ties its limbs together and hunches it over his shoulders like a weightless mantle. They continue forward, killing a fox on the way.

“I never thought I would see myself live here, a few years ago,” Steve hears Peggy say to Tony. Just like Natasha, she’s wearing men’s clothes, because heavy skirts have no place when they’re trying to be discreet. The trousers are well-fitted with the suspenders, and he suspects it isn’t the first time she’s wearing them. Not that it’s any of his business.

“Nor I, trust me. Does Daniel enjoy the new chair I’ve made him?”

“It’s perfect, as always. He’s much happier now that he can go wherever he wants and not wait any longer for me. Of course it’ll be even easier once the paths are tiled.”

“Do the wheels get stuck in grass? I’ve actually been thinking…” 

Steve shifts his attention to Clint and Natasha who are whispering to each other, have been doing so since they’ve come across the wolverine. Natasha seems to be upset about something, if Clint’s soothing expression is anything to go by. His ears aren’t the best and he doesn’t hear what they’re saying with the birds chirping close by. He’s starting to be wary of this being here, like there’s eyes watching them from all around...

Bucky grabs his arm suddenly, startling Steve. When he turns to him, he has a spooked expression, his usually healthy complexion now ashen. He points to their left. 

“Buck?”

“There was… something over there.”

“An animal?”

Bucky shakes his head. “It was a human, a woman, but… not really.”

Steve frowns. Whatever he’s seen, it’s disturbed him. He moves to walk alongside Steve, the path large enough thanks to Thor’s large frame and four other people widening it between them. Nobody’s looking at them, so Steve takes his hand in comfort. 

Bucky has nightmares of the war, carries a lot of guilt from not dying and managing to get out of it alive with only a missing limb while so many of his brothers in arms died on the battlefield. Sometimes he thinks he sees one of them before he realises it’s all in his head. He believes it’s shameful to feel that way or to have his mind all scrambled up, and although he’s started opening up to Steve about it, his only outlet has been a diary he keeps under his mattress so his siblings don’t find it.

His hallucinations has always featured men he used to know. So for him to admit he’s seen a woman, let alone not completely human, Steve immediately believes him. He trusts him. 

“What did she look like?” He asks.

“I couldn’t see her very well because of the shadows, but her face was odd, like it wasn’t entirely human, too long. Her eyes were so big, and she was looking at me.” He exhales loudly, adjusts his collar. “Do you think it could be one of your spirits?”

“They’re not mine, and I don’t know. I’ve never seen them.”

“What are you talking about?” Tony interrupts them, looking over his shoulder. Their whispering isn’t subtle. Steve gives Bucky a look, letting him know it’s his choice to tell him or not.

“I saw a woman over there,” Bucky gestures at the general area he was looking at. “Her face didn’t look human.”

Tony frowns. “That doesn’t sound good.” 

Behind him, Natasha draws out her flintlock. 

“Are you sure?” Peggy asks, and Bucky rolls his eyes.

“If I saw a naked dame staring at me, yes I’m sure. I wouldn’t lie about it.” 

“Let’s move on,” Natasha says, her tone leaving no argument. Her eyes keep scanning the area in visible mistrust. Steve doesn’t like how wary she’s suddenly become. 

“It could be a native, we don’t know their customs,” Bruce tells her, and Thor hums a negative.

“Best to be safe, my friend. We don’t know what lurks on those lands. Remember that we’re trespassers.”

Steve leans his hand against a tree trunk to peer in the direction Bucky has pointed. There’s something in the shadows, unmoving, their shape darker than the rest. He can almost grasp its face, or what he assumes a face would be, but then it shifts away and disappears. He startles as a hand grabs his arm.

“Let’s go,” Clint says, his face serious. If he’s seen anything himself, he doesn’t say anything about it.

And so they continue deeper into the woods. At this point no ray of sunlight filters through the thick leaves and branches, the temperature lowering quickly. Steve shivers as a draft of cold air hits his neck. He turns around, but there’s nothing. His nerves must be playing tricks on him.

“It felt like she was tracking us,” Bucky confides to him, which doesn’t help his paranoia.

They start going in a wide circle back towards the village. How large is this forest, Steve wonders. They’ve been steadily walking for a few hours and they’ve yet to sight the other side of it. 

Thor continues clearing the path ahead, restless, sticks and leaves falling into his long blond hair. He’s come here with his brother Loki, but Steve only had a few opportunities to talk with them. Their accent isn’t British, Scandinavian perhaps. They both come to the weekly common meal, and although Thor is friendly with everyone, Loki keeps to himself and barely talks to anyone until it becomes acceptable to leave the table. He seems anxious and extremely lonely.

“Did you hear that? I swear it sounded like a growl,” Tony has gotten spooked and jumpy as they’ve been continuing, gesticulating more than usual.

“That was my stomach, Stark. You need to calm down,” Clint tells him, and yet his hand has remained on his bow the whole time. 

“I’m not a master archer or assassin or hunter, I’m a smith for god’s sake. I’m not qualified for this.”

“Shut up, I’ve seen you build new inventions from scratch. You could make a slingshot out of twigs for all I know,” Bucky growls, annoyed at his complaining.

Tony throws him a look, but he’s calmed down. “I suppose I am a genius after all,” he mumbles.

Steve slightly pushes him forward when he doesn’t start walking right away. “Come on, follow Peg. She’ll protect you.” 

“And you won’t? I’ve seen you easily carry logs of wood, you’re almost as big as Thor now. Those muscles can’t be for anything.”

Is Tony flirting with him, or is that just him being him? Nonetheless, Steve feels his cheeks grow warmer at the backhanded compliment. “I doubt anyone can be as big as Thor.”

Tony smirks and speeds up to join the others. Steve turns to Bucky and is surprised to see him glaring at his retreating back.

“Stop it,” he hushes at him, although seeing him be jealous is rather flattering. “There’s nothing there. Tony is like that with everyone.”

“Perhaps he ought to have listened to his father more, then,” Bucky growls, then instantly looks guilty. “I apologise, I shouldn’t speak ill of what I don’t know.”

“Indeed you shouldn’t, arsworm. It’s fortunate he didn’t hear you.”

They’re a little behind as they argue, and the sudden gasp of fright make them stop arguing and hurry forward. As they come closer, they see what’s caused the commotion. 

“Ugh, I’ve never seen an animal carcass left this way,” Peggy says, pinching her nose.

It’s a few days old at the least, black flies eating what’s left of the rotting flesh. Thor crouches to inspect it. His grim expression is bad omen . Steve has never seen an animal be ripped apart that way.

“That must’ve been a big predator,” he says to cut through the tense silence. 

Thor sets his mouth in a hard line. “We best hurry back to the village, I smell a storm.”

As they finally leave the forest, Steve takes one look back. He swears he sees a face looking back at him from the darkness.

It starts to rain soon after. Steve puts his warmest hat on and ventures to the pub, where he knows most people reunite on nights like these. There’s Natasha and Thor inside, along with Sam who’s busy tending to the counter before he joins them at the table with some ale of his own. It’s one of the first furnitures he’s attempted to do, and it shows. The legs are uneven, the surface is too buffed out, and Sam had to put a small wooden block to balance it out. It’s somewhat functional, at least.

“I get it didn’t go as well as you’d hoped?” Sam is saying. They turn to Steve when he enters, hangs his dribbling coat and hat beside the door.

“Friend, join us!” Thor booms, more joyous than this afternoon. Perhaps the almost empty large mug before him as to do with this improvement.

He notices Loki is here as well, but his lanky frame is mostly hidden by Thor’s much larger one. He barely looks up when Steve sits down with them, but he knows he’s listening. 

“A lot more happened than we anticipated, that’s for certain,” Natasha says before taking a mouthful of her dark ale. Sam and Clint have started fermenting hemp as an experiment, and although the first batch is a far cry of any delicate flavours, most doesn’t mind it after a few whiskey shots. Natasha is one of the few who actually enjoy it. 

“Bucky saw something in the forest,” Steve explains to Sam. “I’d never seen him like that. He was terrorised.”

Thor and Natasha nod in agreement.

“In my home country, there’s tales of beings living in the woods,” Natasha explains. “I thought they were tales for children so they would go to bed and not venture outside after dark, but perhaps… there is truth in the myths.” She looks troubled, the yellow glow of the candles casting long shadows over her nose and cheekbones.

“What kind of tales?” Steve inquires. He hasn’t spoken of the offerings yet, the invisible spirits scurrying in his house at night.

Loki shifts to stare at him, his green eyes unblinking. It’s like he’s trying to read his mind. Steve has interacted only a handful of times with him specifically for that reason; he’s unsettling.

“A being, демон, living in the forest and leaving hunters and people travelling through in peace unless they were disrespectful. We were taught to be kind to it, but I never believed any of it.”

“I’ve heard similar tales,” Loki finally adds in, voice low. “In my travels. Small villages are always wary of what lies beyond.”

Steve finishes his drink and Sam is quick to refill his mug. “I believe the best decision, until we know more, is to restrain access to the forest, especially at night.”

They continue talking, trying to distract themselves from today’s events. Loki and Thor take their leave a couple hours later, then it’s only Sam, Natasha and him. 

“Every day I thank my grandfather for his sacrifice, you know. He’s the reason why I’m here today,” Sam says, looking mournfully in his mug.

“How so?”

“He starved himself while doing most of the work in the mines, perhaps for years. He kept all his money and gave it to me so I could buy my freedom.”

“I’m sorry for your grandfather,” Natasha says. “But I thank him for you’re here with us now.”

They clank their drinks, painfully aware of what’s happening in the south colonies. 

“How about you, Natasha?”

Her face closes off, and for a moment Steve is sure she won’t answer, but then she looks at Sam. “The Russian court is a pit of snakes. I was forced into servitude to a cruel boyar at a very young age, along with a dozen other girls.” Her mouth twists at the memories, and Steve wants to show his support but doesn’t know how without her taking insult. He hopes listening is enough. “We were trained to execute an array of orders worse that you can imagine. The опри́чнина had nothing on us.” 

At Steve’s confused look, she adds, “The Oprichniki was a politic police created by Ivan the Terrible. It’s now disbanded, but I suppose my master used it as prime example for his own program.”

“How did you escape?” Steve gently asks, and she grimaces.

“I didn’t. A  _ sestra  _ got me out before I was to marry another despicable boyar to spy on him. The New World is the farthest I could run.”

Steve sighs softly, leans back into his chair after such confession. His own life seems lighthearted compared to his companions’. He raises his mug.

“To better life.”

  
  


The village is led by a small council of the elderly. Thor and Tony share what happened during the expedition, and so it is decided no one is to go into the forest after nightfall. Torches will remain lit all night on the edge and someone will patrol the area to alert of any danger. Such behaviour might be alarming, but it’s better to be safe in such unknown territory.

People were already distrusting the forest, but now they’re fearing it too. Steve can understand, when the smallest noise at night can be scary in such a quiet place.

Not long after the new rules are in place, he wakes up in the middle of the night, heart beating too fast in his chest. He usually sleeps deep in any situation, but something… there’s something in the room with him, he’s sure of it. His mind quickly gets rid of the sleepy haze as he remains immobile in his bed, listening closely, his limbs growing numb. His face’s freezing, too, it’s so cold in his room, yet he’s sure he’s fueled the fire to last until the morning.

He jerks away when there’s a tap on the wall followed by a deep hiss coming from the corner right by his head. He’s scared to get his hands out from under the covers to light the candle on his bedside. He feels there’s something crouched beside his bed, and that this thing can hurt him.

“ _ Dia dhuit _ ?” He tentatively says, automatically switching to his mother tongue. (“Hello?”)

Another tap, closer. The mattress moves, and it’s not him. 

“ _ Táimid ag fanacht leat teacht arís isteach san fhoraois _ ,” it whispers in his ear, and his heart momentarily stops. (“We are waiting for you to come again to the forest.”) He throws himself on the floor, away from that thing. He grabs the lighter on his bedside and flicks it on, illuminating his room with a flickering glow.

He’s alone.

He doesn’t fall asleep again that night. Instead he remains huddled under his covers and keeps the oil lamp lit up until the first rays of dawn warm up his house, and he finally emerges to inspect his windows and door. Everything’s in order. He notices his last offerings are still there, but the fruits are completely rotten, a strong fermenting smell emanating from them as if they’d been there for weeks instead of a few days.

He changes into his day clothes and steps outside to head to the fields, where he knows Bucky normally is in the morning. He indeed is, looking still ruffled with sleep and watering the crops with a yawn hidden in his armpit.

He brightens up when he spots Steve walking towards him, and he starts subtly smoothing down his hair.

“Stevie, good morning.” They smile at each other, hug, a total acceptable gesture between friends, and if Steve takes a deep breath of Bucky’s cologne while Clint’s further down the field, no one but them would know. Bucky presses their cheeks together as they step away, his lips brushing against skin that starts to warm up under the attention.

“Good morning, I was hoping to talk with you.”

Bucky takes in his red-rimmed eyes, the hollow fear has left in the downward set of his mouth. “Is everything alright?” He asks with a low voice.

Steve shakes his head, suddenly overcome with too many emotions at once. Having someone be concerned for him has that effect on him. He has to clear his throat a few times before he can speak again.

“I can wait for you to be done, it’s not urgent.”

“Are you sure?” 

At Steve’s nod, Bucky frowns. He squeezes his shoulder, his thumb brushing his neck.

“How about you go to my house?  _ Mamă _ was preparing breakfast when I left. I’m sure she won’t mind you visiting.”

Steve nods again and goes without arguing. The rest of the Barnes family greets him like he’s part of the family, Mrs.. Barnes is happy to give him a serving, claiming he has to feed if he wants to continue getting bigger. He already had to commission new clothing once because his old ones were too small, he thinks he’s plenty big enough.

It reassures him to be surrounded by people he likes. It’s still a novelty to him to be in a traditional family’s house, all he’s ever known is his mother and him in their tiny house. He never misses her as much as when he’s home alone at night and a draft of her perfume hits his nose. 

Bucky arrives a bit later, once Steve has helped Mrs. Barnes with the dishes and the children has gone off to their respective task. He brings a basket full of wild berries. Their rich and sweet aroma fills the kitchen as Bucky eats and talks about work and what they’re planning to plant next, Mrs. Barnes listening and stirring the pot filled with the fruits over the fire. Steve can already taste the delicious jam she will make out of them.

They go into his room. It still smells of berries in here as well but also Bucky’s smell, warm and soothing. They sit on the bed, thighs pressed together.

“What’s the matter?”

Steve lets out a small sigh. “There was… something in my house last night. Kept me awake until the morning.”

“One of your devious spirits? Or something different?”

“Different, much different. I’ve never felt such… evilness targeted at me.”

Bucky wraps his arm around him to pull him against his chest, presses his mouth against his temple. Steve hugs him back, comforted by the steady beat of his heart. They remain quiet for a while, simply relishing in each other’s presence.

“I thought you meant to discuss us…” Bucky murmurs, his deep voice rumbling in his chest.

“What about us?” Steve straightens up to look at him.

Bucky shrugs, chews on his bottom lip. “We haven’t really talked about what’s going on between us.”

“Oh.” Steve smoothes his hand down his shirt to rest against his stomach. “I like you, you like me; I believe we can figure out the rest as we go, what says you?

“I like that idea,” Bucky smiles at him, pulls him back to kiss him, and Steve quickly ends up on his lap with his hands lost in his soft hair. They don’t make much noise in fear or someone hearing them, but Steve can’t help his gasp when Bucky’s fingers trail down his back and side to land on his ass, squeezing. 

“Tease. We can’t do anything here, you know it.”

“It gets difficult to convince myself when you’re on me and doing that thing with your tongue.”

Steve laughs, leaning his forehead against Bucky’s. “I suppose I’m the teasing one then. Alright then.” He slides off his lap, chuckling some more at Bucky’s pout. 

“Addle-pot,” he mumbles and doesn’t let him escape too far, not that Steve wants to be anywhere else right now, content to stroke his soft hair. With so much sun, the usual dark brown strands have turned lighter, rich golden brown instead.

“I’ve been thinking, I could come live with you,” Bucky says, his voice muffled in the crook of Steve’s neck. “Six people in a small house is a lot, and I’m the oldest, so it would be fitting for me to be the first to leave the family home.”

“Usually it’s when you’re off with your newly wed wife.”

Bucky shrugs, clearly unbothered. “Some of the people here already think I’m a liability because of my arm, so let them think what they want. Besides, it’s not unheard of, for bachelors to live together. If you’d like, that is.”

“Who’s the pickthank saying you’re a liability?” Steve frowns, outraged. He would set straight whoever has said that. 

Bucky chuckles and shakes his head as he leans away. “Steve, it’s not worth it. You haven’t replied to my suggestion.”

“Of course I want you to come live with me, just so I can be there when I hear someone say they have a problem with you.”

Bucky grins. “Whatever you say,  _ mo leannan _ ,” he says, which makes Steve smile, completely smitten. He has to return home soon after to continue working on a desk commissioned by Mrs. Carter and Mr. Sousa, but Bucky promises he’ll give him an update once he talks to his parents. As Steve steps outside, he notices there’s fog spreading in a thick layer around the village. The weather is growing cold, the days are shorter. 

Fall is soon to begin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on [Tumblr](http://cap-sweet-and-salty-sadness.tumblr.com/)


	3. dark rituals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A child goes missing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I added new tags, make sure to read them first. There's graphic description of violence and corpses in this chapter.
> 
> [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5gkngHonsGkIOr8QQg3b3X?si=pSt55NhHTVKvE3zUiQ9WRA)

There’s only details left on Peggy and Mister Sousa’s desk to finish it, the last step buffing the top and adding a layer of varnish to make the wood shine and protect it. Steve transfers the furniture on a cart to pull to their house, waving at Mrs. Stark. 

Mister Sousa answers him. He’s a veteran who tends to keep to himself and lets Peggy have the attention, but he’s kind and observant and Steve can easily see why Peggy fell in love with him. Tony has built him a wheelchair that allows him to move around, for he’s lost a leg, and Steve sometimes wonders if him being disabled stops him from joining the other villagers more often. Perhaps it would be good for him and Bucky to converse more than polite small talk.

“Steve, we commissioned you only last week. Did you sleep at all?” Mister Sousa greets him with a smile.

“I did, Mister Sousa, I suppose I’m getting more efficient.”

“It’s Daniel, please.” 

It’s a well-known fact Peggy and him aren’t married, yet living together. It made people gossip at first, but honestly there were too many tasks to do to worry about some  _ sinful  _ couple. Steve knows his situation with Bucky isn't the same, but it still gives him hope. 

He pulls in the cart as far as he can manage in the narrow hall and hauls the desk in his arms the rest of the way, making sure to bend his knees so he doesn’t hurt his back. This house is larger Steve's but not by much, with three rooms instead of two, the last room to use as a potential nursery perhaps? Steve doesn't dare to ask. For now it's an office and the desk takes a good portion of it when he puts it down, documents tucked messily on a small table and an armchair in the corner.

"That'll be much easier to keep my papers in order now." There’s more stacks on the dinner table and even on the floor. Daniel takes care of finances for the village, which is very useful, on the opposite of what he might think.

Steve helps Daniel bring everything on the desk, frankly overwhelmed by so much paperwork once it’s all on there. How he can possibly find himself in this mess is beyond Steve, but then again, he’s sure his own workshop is a maze for everyone else.

"I've noticed you weren't accompanying Peggy at the last communal dinner. How have you been?" Steve asks him, wiping his hands on his trousers. They're just as dirty, so all it does is smear the wood dust around in a small cloud around him.

"I've been sleeping quite poorly lately, as a matter of fact." Daniel purses his lips. "I keep hearing noises. Peggy says it's the house working, but I doubt wood makes that many strange noises."

"What kind of noise?"

Daniel chuckles in self-derision. "I'm sure it's my imagination going wild in the middle of the night."

Steve sits down in the armchair, noting how plushy against his back. "Daniel. You can be honest with me, I swear I won’t judge you.”

Daniel sighs, slowly shakes his head. "The sort a house shouldn't be making. Scurrying and objects being moved, scratching sounds on the ground. Whenever I get up to check up on it, I feel like there's something else with me, and I don’t mean a wild animal."

Steve is surprised. It's the first time someone else is sharing having those invisible spirits. 

"It's not your imagination. I've experimented the same thing. I believe they're from the forest, but they're not bad." He tells him about his offerings, how things have settled for him once he's started doing that. 

"I will try that, then. Thank you," Daniel says, and Steve knows he doesn't mean only for the suggestion. 

"Of course. Is Peggy aware of this?"

"She knows I have trouble sleeping, but I was feeling too shameful of starting to believe..."

"That ghosts and spirits are real? More than you can imagine." Steve walks to the door, his work done. "Let me know if you sleep better or if your problem persists." 

Just as he’s touching the knob to open the door, it opens in front of him. “Leaving so soon, darling?” Peggy inquires, stepping inside. Her hair look impeccable as does her dress, and Steve helps her carry her two baskets full of fresh nettle. Peggy has been making Daniel’s paper since the first harvest. Steve is hoping she’ll accept to show him how she does it so he can make a new diary for Bucky and perhaps a new sketchbook for himself, once he has time to fill the remaining pages of his current one.

“We haven’t got the time to chat since forever. Would you like a cup of tea before leaving, love?”

Steve couldn’t say no. Her tea is the best, after all, and when he thinks of returning home, something unpleasant curls in his chest.

They chat for a while. It’s always a pleasure for Steve to speak to such an outspoken woman, and in many ways, she reminds him of his own mother. She’s very clever. He watches and grins as her and Daniel exchange fond jests, thinking of Bucky. 

The conversation comes around to the new ordeal afterwards their excursion.

“We’ve been only here for a few months and despite stepping myself into the forest, it still feels like a stranger to me. Speaking of strange things, did you share with Steve what you don’t want me to know?” Peggy asks Daniel, whose eyes grow bigger over his cup. He slowly places it down onto the saucer. “Love, there’s no chiding here, I’m simply worried about you. You don’t sleep well, and when I ask you if there’s any reason, you very obviously lie.”

Daniel relaxes at her words. Steve gets to his feet. “I think it’s best if I leave to give you some privacy,” he says, not wanting to intrude anymore on what seems like a more personal moment. The couple gently agrees. Sooner or later, everyone would need to realise paranormal events are occurring here, for their own survival. Steve firmly believes Daniel and him aren’t the only ones who’ve experienced them, as unfortunate as the truth is.

He returns home. He takes the time to gather his tools outside, convincing himself he's not apprehensive of stepping inside. The sun is setting, however, and he's getting hungry. Just as he finally gathers enough courage, he hears footsteps in the rock path linking his house to the rest of the village.

"Stevie!" Bucky waves at him, a heavy bag slung over his shoulder. "I have some good news. Well, good news for me, I don't know for you."

Steve's earlier fear evaporates at his sight, and he leaves his tools to go to him. He's smiling before he realises he is. "Yes? Tell me."

"I'm your new roommate. I don't cook that well, but I clean alright." 

Steve laughs and wraps an arm around his shoulders, careful to not tug on his bag. "It'll be good to have you with me."

"The feeling's mutual," Bucky says, gaze descending on his mouth before it focuses back on his eyes. His tan makes his red lips stand out, and it's hard for Steve to not follow the urge to just kiss him then and there. Bucky enters the house like he's home already and puts down his bag on a chair. This house is only two rooms, the main one with a small bedroom, large enough to fit two beds... or one double size bed. 

"Ugh..." Bucky pokes at the rotten remains on his small altar. "Why haven't you thrown that out yet?"

"I, uh... I forgot," Steve says, too ashamed to say he hasn't felt safe to return inside. It must show on his face, because Bucky takes the bowl and throws the content outside, where Steve puts his leftover to give to Clint so he can use it as fertilizer. 

"There. I brought us a gift." He extracts a bottle of plum wine from his bag, presents it to Steve with a smile. Instead of taking it, Steve pulls him in and kisses him hard.

"Welcome home.”

They decide to bring Bucky’s single bed in the house and install it in the bedroom, but at night they put the two together. They curl together under the covers, and in Bucky's embrace, Steve feels safe. For the following weeks, he doesn't wake up in the middle of the night nor feels any evil presence around him. 

The first time they make love, it's not smooth like Steve has imagined it. They're both clumsy, Steve almost smack their heads together a few times due to lack of coordination and Bucky spills all the oil on the floor in his hurry. 

But they want to make each other feel good, and that's what matters. Feeling Bucky's warm, muscular naked body against him is almost enough to make Steve cum, and then Bucky straddles his lap and starts grinding their cocks together. Steve grips his thick thighs and he's gone. 

He's ashamed by how quick he finishes, but Bucky looks like a smug cat who got the cream. Steve flips him around and jerks him off as he explores his chest with his tongue and teeth, sucking marks into his soft skin, and it's not long before Bucky throws his head back and cums as well, the mixed evidence of their pleasure splattered between them. 

"It wasn't what I'd planned," Steve says afterwards, once he's cleaned them both. Bucky laughs and tucks him closer, kissing his sweaty temple. 

"Still perfect."

At fall, the village is surrounded by fields of corns and potatoes and pumpkins, enough to sustain them for the incoming winter. The leaves in the trees go from green to red, yellow, orange and purple, litter the ground and transform the sight of the forest much more colourful for a while. Children play in them, their laughs echoing up to Steve's house as he spends his days building and cutting and buffing wood. His fingers have all suffered from wood splinters at some point, now his hands hardened with callouses. He still help others when they need it, but it's quieter now. The initial buzzing of their arrival has settled down. 

Bucky harvests the crops with Clint and his daughter. Each family goes and retrieves their share, and Bucky always come with theirs and some dish given by the giggling young woman of the day. Steve knows he has nothing to worry about, Bucky proves it every morning and night, but he can't help the envy he feels every time he sees him flirt with someone else in public because that's not something they'll ever experience. 

At least they get food out of it. 

There's more expeditions in the woods over the weeks, none that either Bucky or Steve participate in. Thor is in charge of them, usually accompanied by his brother and Bruce. They claim they aren't scared of what might be lurking, or at least Thor isn’t, and they need to know more. They depart in the morning and usually come back in mid-afternoon. Only once do they seem spooked, Loki muttering something to Thor under his breath as he looks over his shoulder. 

And then a child goes missing. 

Steve knows the Lang family well, both Scott and Hope are friendly and their light banter is famous around the village. He's met Cassandra a few times as well, spoke with her. He's calm and charming, as smart and witty as her parents. She goes to school one morning and disappears between the time she leaves and arrives home, from what they conclude. It's not even night when it happens.

Bruce assures the parents she left the school like everyone else, and Thor finds tracks leading into the forest and wants to investigate right away, he claims as he enters the town hall where everyone is reunited.

"It's almost dark," Bruce protests, clearly uncomfortable at the prospect. 

"I'll go with him," Hope says, her mouth set. Scott nods beside her. 

Bucky is idly scratching his left arm as he watches the exchange when Steve turns to him.

"I want to help investigate," he tells him in a low voice. 

Bucky opens his mouth to protest, frowning, but closes it when he sees the determination on Steve's face. He sighs instead and nods.

"Steve and I will help as well," he announces. "We've been in the woods before, we know what to expect." Steve hasn't told anyone but Bucky about his malevolent nocturnal visitor and only Bucky has seen that thing in the forest before. Whether that thing from the two encounters is the same or not, Steve doesn’t know, but neither are good omens.

"Thank you," Steve leans closer so he's the only one to hear. "I feel like this is something I have to do."

Bucky gives him a small smile, nudges their shoulders together. "Always going straight into danger, aren't you? I suppose I'm the same, if I'm willing to follow you."

The group consists of Thor, Hope, Scott, Clint, Natasha, Tony, Bucky and Steve. Tony has made them durable oil lamps that illuminate farther, and for someone who pretends to be self-centered, he sure is willing to help. Steve catches him glancing a few times at Thor when he thinks no one's looking, and he seems flustered when Thor thanks him with a hand clasped to his shoulder. 

Once in the forest, they separate in pairs: Hope with Scott, Clint with Natasha, Thor with Tony, and Bucky with Steve. 

"Cassie!" Steve calls out as they venture forward, leaves crunching under their boots. It’s eerily quiet tonight, while usually animals are the most active at night.

There's something lingering in the air tonight, and it's freezing him to the bone. "Are you feeling this?"

"I am," Bucky breathes out. White vapour comes out of his mouth. It isn't even this cold, and yet Steve has to keep his teeth together for them to stop chattering. 

Bucky holds the lantern higher. "I simply hope that in trying to find her, we don't lose ourselves."

The forest is threatening, there's no other way to put it, and no matter how Steve tries to ignore it, he feels eyes on him. Something's watching them and he fears it’s found Cassie already. They don't follow one of the paths Thor has made, and they bifurcate a lot to dodge low branches, and as much as they try to go in a straight path, they get lost. Steve looks for the sky but can't see it.

"How deep do you think it goes?" Steve asks. It's starting to be cold, his toes going numb in his boots and woolen socks. 

"Deeper than we can walk in one night," Bucky sighs. "This was a bad idea from the start, Stevie." 

"We'd react the same way, if a loved one disappeared. I'd react that way if  _ you  _ disappeared." 

Bucky gives him a fond smile, but he still looks worried, eyes darting around as if he's scared something is going to jump on them. 

They don't know how long they walk, the sight nothing but trees and bushes, the lamps their only comfort in this unknown environment. A few times they're surprised by the glowing eyes of an animal, but it scurries away in fear. Just when Steve suggests they turn around to return to the village, the trees give way to a clearing.

The moon and stars illuminate the sky, and for a second, Steve can breathe better… until he sees what’s sitting on the other side of that clearing.

They share a look. "Who would build this here?" Bucky asks, confused. A perfect English brick house, chimney smoking and light filtering through the windows. It almost looks… inviting.

"We have to go back and tell the others," Bucky claims, gripping Steve’s arm. 

Steve knows it would the best thing to do, but at the same time, they might not find their way back for a long time, let alone be able to find this house again before it’s too late. Not in the dark anyway. 

"What if Cassie's in there, and we can save her?"

"We don't know if she's in here... Steve, don't. You can't just walk in there alone."

Steve throws him a look over his shoulder, his steps not faltering. "Come on then." There's no way he's turning back when everything in him screams him otherwise. It'd be a waste and he wouldn't be able to forgive himself.

The front door is unlocked. Steve and Bucky enters a kitchen with light yellow walls. Herbs are drying by the windows and a meal is spread on the long wooden table, everything Steve has missed from Ireland. Fire is crackling in the stove. The counters, the window panels and the floor are spotless.

It feels like a home.

“This feels too cozy,” Bucky whispers, echoing Steve’s thoughts. They look at the food but don’t touch it, instead peering into the narrow hall.

Three doors: one on each side and another at the end. Nothing decorates the walls, spotless once again. Steve enters the left door, Bucky staying close behind him. What they see inside is nothing that they expect. It's a bedroom, and in the two beds are sleeping a man and a woman. Each are on their back, something's flickering over them. 

At first Steve thinks they're humans, but on closer look, their features are too wide, too long, as if someone tried to mold human faces out of clay and didn’t fully succeed. There’s just someone monstrous about them, oozing off them like viscous ichor. They give Steve goosebumps.

Bucky is inspecting what is floating over the man, frowning. It's nothing like Steve has ever seen, tangible smoke hovering over both bodies and lingering there, not dissipating. Steve goes to touch one, but Bucky stops him with a stern look, shaking his head. 

The room on the opposite side gives them the same sight, two beds with two persons sleeping in them, the white thing floating over them. They decide to check the last door. 

As soon as Steve opens the door, he has to restrain himself not to puke. The smell is filthy, repugnant, like meat rotting over months. Steve has read about dark rituals disturbed by the Spanish Inquisition, but he's never imagined how it could really be, seeing one in person. The shapes drawn on the floor in what looks like blood, caked over time, the room littered with bones forming pentagrams. In the middle of it, a corpse opened from neck to groin, viscera and organs ripped out and placed in a circle around it in a precise order. A sacrifice.

Bucky dry heaves behind him, presses his lower face against his wrist to block the odour. His eyes reddens as tears dribbles silently down his cheeks. When Steve notices, he pulls him closer with his free arm and Bucky buries his face in his shirt. Steve is as traumatised, but seeing Bucky in such distress allows him to push all of it away while he comforts him. 

"We have to see who it is," Bucky breathes out shakily. The scene reminds him of the animal they found in the forest, all those months ago. He gets a hold of himself quickly, thankfully, and Steve wipes his tears when he straightens up. 

They go closer to the corpse. There's not much left to recognise the person, but the hair gives it away. Steve lets out a choked up sob, breathing deeply through his mouth to contain himself. Now is not the time. After a quick scan of the room, he finds a leather bound book. He slips it into his pocket to look at later. 

"At least now we know. It’s best for her parents," he sighs. Bucky nods. 

"Let's get out of here before whatever did this to her comes back."

They walk back to the kitchen, where Bucky stops Steve. "What if it's the sleeping things who did this? What if they're the ones who visited you?"

Steve knows where he's going with that, but he hesitates. There's no way to make sure, not unless they wake up one and force the answer out, but he doubts it would go smoothly. They'd probably end up as a sacrifice themselves.

Would he be able to do what Bucky is suggesting, however? Could he kill those people, plunge a knife into their heart and return home with a mind free of remorse? 

"We don’t even know who they are." 

"Stevie, they’re living in the middle of this forest, in this perfectly built house, beside the very room used as a sacrifice chamber. I don't want to do this either, but if they're the ones who have been haunting those woods, I’ll regret it later." 

Bucky ventures back into one of the bedrooms. He's been a soldier, and no matter how far you go, the war always follows you. The two creatures are still sleeping, or at least laying there. As Steve contemplates the white cast floating over them, he starts to wonder if, perhaps, it might be their soul. What else could it be?

Bucky presses the flat side of the knife against his lips, meaning to keep quiet, and he goes beside one of them. He doesn’t hesitates and swiftly cuts deep into the creature’s neck. Blood gushes out in thick rivelets, and Bucky doesn't stop to watch it die. The other one receives the same fate. 

The white mist vanishes as they die. It's a grotesque sight, but Steve doesn’t look away. He has to make sure they won't get back up to attack them. They go and do the same thing in the other bedroom, then they wait, barely breathing, for something to happen. 

Silence. After a few minutes, they somewhat relax. Bucky cleans his hands in the kitchen, then they decide to wrap Cassandra in some of the cleanest blankets to bring back to her parents. They deserve to know the truth and bury their child. 

"Let's get out of here," Steve says, carrying the body while Bucky is holding up his lamp. They both can breathe better as soon as they open the front door and step outside. The air is fresh and crisp, soothes Steve’s flustered skin and burning eyes.

"Think we can find our way back?" Bucky asks. In the warm glow of the faint light, he looks ready to hit the bed. 

"If we go back the way we came from, we ought to either meet other people or come across the village."

So they do. The weight doesn't slow Steve down, but the knowledge it's a human being who's been murdered that he's carrying does make bile gather in his throat a few times, so he tries to not think of it. 

"You okay?" Bucky asks once he notices Steve is looking up the tall trees to calm himself down. "Would you like me to carry her?"

"No, I'm alright."

It’s obvious he’s not, but Bucky lets him carry her. After a few more steps, Steve gives in. “What are we going to tell the Langs, Buck?  _ Sorry, your daughter was a sacrifice to forest spirits? Oh and also there’s a house we’ve never seen before in the middle of nowhere? _ ”

“There’s no easy way to deliver that sort of news.” Bucky speaks from experience, Steve reads in the crease of his forehead and the tightness around his mouth. 

“I’m sorry I’ve forced you into this situation. I shouldn’t have rushed us into helping without discussing it with you.”

“I’ve known you for less than a year but I’ve never seen you back down from anything. Today wasn’t going to change that. And you’re not forcing me into anything, Stevie. It’s just…” Bucky swallows, eyes shifting to what lays in Steve’s arms. “With everything that’s been happening here, I realise I’m willing to follow you to the end of the line if it means protecting you.”

Steve smiles, touched beyond words in spite of their current situation. “To the end of the line.”

Sooner than Steve has thought, they find themselves on the edge of the forest. The way back has been much faster. 

"Steve, Bucky! You've been gone for so long, we thought you got lost," Tony calls out. The others are gathered close to a torch, but they approach the duo when they spot them. 

"What do you have here, Steve?" Thor asks, noticing the bloodied cloth. His large hammer is in his hand, Loki by his side. The latter fakes disinterest, but his green eyes are also focused on Steve’s load.

Bucky clears his throat. "We found — " He starts with a soft voice, but he's interrupted by Scott and Hope approaching, both looking relieved.

"You won’t believe this! Cassie was hiding a bit away, we're lucky we found her," Scott announces, carrying his sleeping daughter in his arms. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on [Tumblr](http://cap-sweet-and-salty-sadness.tumblr.com/)


	4. banished

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Why are you in our house? You're not welcomed here."
> 
> Someone moves closer. It seems human, but they still don't say anything. Steve discerns feet, a long dress he's seen many times, and then a face he thought he'd never see again. He chokes back a sob and steps back, collides into Bucky's solid frame.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter: non-explicit mention of physical abuse, alcohol and drug use. I will put more spoilery details in the end notes. 
> 
> [story playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/679AXYM1PPmgruMpfjt0qQ?si=j7JTWCEsQ7ipkboO2MhzKw)

Cassandra looks peaceful in her father’s arms, her head tucked against his neck. Scott can't seem to stop petting her hair.

Steve opens his mouth, dumbfounded, and shares a look with Bucky. If Cassandra's alive, what is he carrying? 

“Steve, put it down,” he tells him.

"I, uh..." Steve doesn’t dispute the order and puts down his load on the ground. He pushes the cloth aside and jerks away in revulsion. 

"Bloody hell," Tony groans out, steps away from the sight. Natasha comes closer to inspect.

"We got lost and came across a house in the middle of the woods," Bucky begins to explains. "We saw some obscure creatures in there, sleeping, and what we thought was a human sacrifice. I don't understand..." He stares down at the animal carcass, violently ripped open the same way they've seen Cassandra’s body before. None of this is making sense. There’s no way they could’ve mistaken an animal’s corpse for a human’s.

"I also saw it, it was some kind of sacrifice,” Steve adds once his nausea settles down. “I could draw the ritual, I think it'll remain in my nightmares for a long time."

Natasha puts back the cloth over the carcass. "This forest... It doesn't want us here. Clint and I also had… an experience. We spotted someone before us, we clearly heard them, but when we went to investigate, it was animal footprints... I never experimented something of the sort."

"What did you do with these sleeping creatures?"

Steve wipes his forehead with his wrist, his throat suddenly tight. He doesn't know what he's seen anymore, and he's so tired. How he longs to lay in his bed, wrapped around Bucky, and sleep this night away. 

"We did what we had to do to bring some peace to the village," Bucky says, a hand on his hip, his furrowed brows indicating he’s ready for a fight.

Instead of a fight, Thor nods. "Aye, you did. You may have removed a threat, but I'm afraid there's more than one. We have to remain vigilant, perhaps have two night watchers."

"Let me take care of the defenses," Tony pipes in. He's standing close to Thor who smiles at his determination. 

"I’m glad you found your daughter, Scott and Hope. I just want to wash myself and sleep, to be honest, so good night. " Bucky starts towards Steve and his house, his shoulders dropped with fatigue. Everyone bids each other good night and leave for their own house. It's been a long day, but in the end Cassandra is safe, and it's all that matters. 

Steve remains with more questions than answers. This place is playing tricks on him, on all of them, and he's starting to be unable to distinguish what is real from what isn't. How could it be both at the same time?

"We have to go back, Steve," Bucky tells him as soon as he swings the front door open. He's been busy warming up water for the small bathtub he's brought inside. "We have to go back and see if the house was real. What if we hallucinated the whole thing and I killed innocent people?" He’s clearly worrying himself sick over the possibility.

Steve goes to him and embraces him from behind. He plants a kiss on the nape of his neck. "You and I killed them, Buck, we're both responsible. I agree that we go back, I'm growing tired of the forest playing with us." He hasn't come all this way to live in another kind of misery. "Let's sleep on it, I'm too tired to think of a plan tonight."

"Alright. Why don't go take your bath first, I'll wash your back."

The common room smells of lemongrass and ginger, a scent usually lingering on Bucky’s. Steve undresses, trying to not blush too much under Bucky's interested gaze lingering on him, and sinks into the hot water. He rests his head against the edge and smiles bashfully when Bucky starts washing him and pressing kisses on whatever damp skin he can reach. Steve sighs happily under his treatment, letting himself be pampered a moment longer before they reverse roles. Steve washes his hair and massages his scalp because Bucky is almost vibrating with worry even if they thought they were doing what was best at the time. 

With that in mind, he slips his hands in the water afterwards and strokes his cock until he's thrusting in his hold, chest red from pleasure. He looks content afterwards, lets himself be handled into a night shirt and into the bed. He curls himself in Steve's arms and falls asleep fairly quickly. 

Steve doesn’t sleep until the sky lightens up with the first rays of sunlight.

  
He searches for the leather book when he awakes from his short rest and even though he’s sure he tugged it in his belt at his back, it’s nowhere to be seen. His shirt from the previous night has an odd smell however, almost like mold. He burns it in the fireplace.

They return in the forest with Natasha and Peggy, the two most grounded persons he knows. Bucky remembers by which direction they arrived at the village, so they follow the opposite direction. It doesn’t take as much time to find the clearing. In broad daylight, it doesn’t seem as menacing.

“Where’s the house?” Peggy asks, a question on everyone’s mind, because it’s not here. There’s nothing in the clearing but grass and wild flowers. Steve walks to the spot he’s sure twelve hours ago had a house standing here. Natasha joins him and inspects the surroundings. 

“How is that possible?” Bucky pinches the bridge of his nose, shaking his head. “It was right here.”

“There’s no footprints either, no trace of you coming here before. Are you sure it was here?”

“Yes,” Steve says, walking around with growing frustration. He goes all the way to the trees on the opposite side of where they came from, and it’s when he makes his way back that he notices something dispersed in the grass.

“Could you come here and tell me this is real?”

Natasha and Peggy inspect what he’s found, ash in the middle of nowhere.

“It’s real and quite disturbing,” Peggy says, leaning down to pinch some between her fingers. “No evidence of fire, and yet there’s ashes.”

“Perhaps they don’t come from a fire,” Natasha mumbles, looking up at Bucky.

“Do you think it could be the creatures I killed?”

“It would be plausible. Their death might have caused the break of any illusions they had in this clearing.”

That’s the best explanation they can come up with. It still makes little to zero sense, and Steve is definitely not trusting anything he sees happening in the forest from now on.

They decide not to venture again for at least a few days, to see if anything happens as a consequence of their action, but nothing does. There's no midnight visit anymore other than the usual mischievous spirits.

Bucky gathers provisions while Steve crafts himself a sword at Tony's house, asking him questions about working with iron that Tony is all too happy to answer. He's built himself a forge in a room he also built, with a chimney so he doesn't poison himself with the smoke and fumes. 

"You're a man with many resources, that's for sure," Steve tells him once he starts explaining his idea for running water all over the village with a plumbing system. 

"I'm a genius, after all. You still haven't told me what you want that sword for," Tony says in between hammering the metal down. He plunges it into a basin of water, and Steve is still impressed by how much it hisses at the contact. Once it's cold, Tony pushes it back into the hot coals to work on another portion.

"It's for protection."

"I'm no dalcop, Steve, I know it's for more than that. You're scared of something, but you still want to fight it."

Steve purses his lips as he continues buffing the wooden grip. They plan on wrapping it in leather straps afterwards. Tony wants him to try making the grip and pommel, and hopefully he won't ruin Tony's work. He'll make the scabbard out of wood as well, he doesn't need anything fancy.

"We all have our reasons to be here, Steve, whatever is haunting you might be haunting others as well," Tony continues. 

"The same goes for you."

Tony huffs in mild annoyance. "No need to be defensive... If I share some of my story with you, will you do the same?"

Steve is surprised at the offer. As far as he knows, Tony doesn't like talking about his previous life, and only Thor may know about it. He won’t punch a horse in the mouth.

"Alright, if you're sure about it."

"I grew to know you, and you're a good person, better than I could ever wish to be. You'd be the last person to judge me, I'm sure of it."

"Oh. I'm flattered you think so highly of me, Tony."

Tony gestures at him that it's nothing. "To be fair, you're the only one who's not scared to tell me no, so I suppose I respect you for that as well." That makes Steve laugh for the first time in days.

Tony swallows and takes a sip from his cold tea. He complains daily about not having coffee. Unknown to him, Thor has managed to get his hand on some beans and has asked Bucky to plant the germinated seeds for him. It's not the best soil for them, but Bucky has told him the plants are growing steadily and that they expect grown coffee cherries next spring.

"I actually never thought of moving to the New World. You see, I'm the son of a wealthy engineer, Howard Stark, you might've known of him?"

Steve shakes his head. "I never really kept up with the English news."

"Of course you didn't, in your Irish Fields. Well, my father was best known in Britain for being one of the best inventors and contributors to the military. Sea military, to be more precise. He built a better version of submarines and came up with multiple versions of firearms based on the pistol. That might be why I dislike them so much." He takes a shuddering breath, gaze down on his work to not have to see Steve's expression. 

"Dad's work took so much place he stopped caring for anything else, or at least that's my theory. I don't think he ever told me he loved me or was proud of me. I didn't fully understand how he treated my mother wasn't normal when I was a child, and then I grew up and I... started suffering the same treatment. Being beat up wasn't enough the worst, the insults were.

"Anything I was doing, it never was enough. I wasn't enough. Hearing this every day for twenty years gets in your head sooner than later, doesn't it? At fifteen I went to the Eton boarding school, and the miserable schedule was better than living at the family home. I became the best scholar and was offered a position as an engineer, but my father wanted me to work in Stark Industries, right underneath him.

"I didn't want that, but he had no care for the feelings and ambitions of anyone but his own. Sad wouldn't be exact to describe my feelings about the situation, but by some miracle, I kept trying however I could. I worked and hid the pain through alcohol and sex, even opium. Nothing truly removes the pain, but some things can make you ignore it for a while. My mother was such in bad health because of his constant physical abuse at that point she could barely walk. She had broken bones she didn't dare go to the hospital for, because they'd ask questions and she feared what would he do if she dared tell someone. I didn't mind being mistreated, but I couldn't stand someone else suffering because of that heinous man."

He stops talking, too choked up to continue. Steve doesn't know what to say, but whatever has happened, he's managed to bring both his mother and him to this side of the Atlantic. He doesn’t remember their physical state on the ship, too heartbroken about his own mother's bad health to focus on anything else.

"What did you do?" He finally carefully asks, going for a neutral tone. 

"I bankrupted him. I found a man exactly like my father, vicious and who preferred money over anything else, and I sold him my father's secrets. Killing him would've been too easy, and I wanted him to be poor and live in misery. With the money I got from that, I bought tickets to come here, to start anew. I didn't want to be drawn solely by fame, and money is worthless here." 

"Did you leave without telling him?"

"We did. I doubt he'd have time to pursue us anyway, what with his crumbling company." Tony chuckles, but there's sadness lingering in his eyes. Families can be hard, and moreso when it's parents. 

Steve pats his arm in sympathy. "Thank you for telling me. You shouldn't feel ashamed of your past, you managed to survive through what many wouldn't have been able to go through."

Tony nods. They continue working in silence, punctured by the heavy hammer hitting the metal. There's a sort of companionship that wasn't there before, and Steve likes it. He sees Tony in another light, understands that his brashness is probably a defense to hide his real feelings. 

He's done with the guard and is making a sketch how he wants the scabbard to be when Tony finishes the blade. 

"It's beautiful. Thank you Tony, it's much more than I expected."

Tony grins. "You're welcome. Now, you haven't told me about you."

"That's true. I owe it to you, and I like to keep my promises. My story isn't as eventful as yours, I'm afraid to say."

"As I could only wish so for you. How about we go to the kitchen for that, I'm hungry and mum said she'd bake some jumbals and I'm peckish."

"Sure. I could go for a few myself."

"You're always hungry, Steve," Tony laughs, and Steve shrugs in admittance.

They go to the kitchen, where Mrs. Stark is dressing up for the cold weather.

"Hello, Steve, I didn't know you were here," she greets him with a smile. Tony has her eyes, brown and expressive. She's much calmer than him, however, and Steve always feels at ease with her.

"Yes, Tony is generous enough to show me some of his art."

"It's not art," Tony weakly protests, but looks awfully pleased. 

"Of course it is. You create beautiful metal pieces from scratch. It's just a different medium than mine."

"Well, I'm glad I'm not the only one who tells him, although I hope the words come across better from a friend than from a mother." She looks pointely at Tony who scoffs.

"Mother, weren't you leaving?"

She swats at his arm, but doesn't look offended. It only takes a look at Tony to know he adores his mother. "I'm to meet with Mrs. Barnes and Mrs. Van Dyne, indeed. I won't be gone for long, but help yourself to the dumbals, will you? I'm trying out a new recipe."

"I'm sure Steve will be happy to do to so."

Mrs. Stark leaves with a wave, and Tony watches her walk down the path from the window. "I'm so glad she's happy here."

"She is, thanks to you. Now, about those cookies..."

They are delicious, sweet and buttery. Steve eats three and only stops out of pure politeness. "You still want to know my story?"

"Of course. I always thought you were a model to follow, and I'm not the only one having that opinion. Thor also thinks highly of you."

"Thor, huh?" Steve raises an eyebrow. Tony picks at a knot in the wooden table, red creeping on his cheeks.

"What about him?"

"Oh nothing. Nothing at all. You know that I don't judge." Steve winks at him. "Anyway, I used to live only with my ma in a small village, Cill Bharróg. A place very similar to here, actually. Perhaps not as cold. I used to be very sick as a child, and the fact I survived some winters was only by some true miracle and my ma, I'll admit. She was very knowledgeable with herbs and natural remedies. People from the village used to come to her for help, that's how we actually paid for the trip. 

"I think you know where I'm going with that, don't you? A single mother, living away from the rest of the village and knowing about plants and potions, as they used to call them. Men fear what women do, and their own ignorance brought doom to a lot of people. The Spanish Inquisition left a lot of fear in people's hearts, and I suppose someone was looking for a scapegoat. One day I was home alone while ma was collecting wild plants in the forest when men from the Inquisition came to our house. They asked me a lot of questions, about my ma's whereabouts, if she left in the middle of the night, if I saw any odd beauty marks on her, if I thought she was the reason I was sick... 

“I told them poverty made us live in such a secluded house, which wasn't far from the truth. When ma came back, I told her everything. I was ready to leave this place that offered nothing but hypocrisy and bad blood, I needed something more, and I knew she did as well. We came to Britain afterwards, where we heard about the ship leaving for the New World. We knew it was our chance. The rest, well you were there, you know what happened to her."

“I’m sorry that it happened to you.” Tony slides a cookie towards him which Steve accepts with a small smile. “I’m hoping this village allows us to be free of such superstitions.”

“So far it has been.”

“That’s true.” Tony taps a random melody on the table, his mind probably running multiple ways. "Are you planning a shield as well?" He suddenly asks randomly.

"I already started working on it."

"Alright. Bring it to me before decorating it, I'll make it sturdier."

"Thank you, Tony."

"No problem." Tony slaps a friendly hand on his shoulder. "Wow, you're really getting muscular. I still remember how skinny you were on the ship, I thought you would fly away at the first burst of wind."

Steve rolls his eyes but focuses on Tony with a serious look. "Thank you for today. Your help is really appreciated. Bucky got us plum wine to last us for the year, you should come visit sometimes."

Tony chuckles and scratches his beard. He looks touched by Steve's words, even if he tries to conceal it. 

The next day, he has a sword and shield. 

"Are you sure this is necessary?" Bucky observes the sword, runs his fingers along the metal. He's shirtless and, in the golden evening light, he looks like Steve's ideal version of a warrior. 

"Yes. If we meet another of those things, I'd rather have something to defend myself with. It feels right." 

"I'll have both of the daggers, in that case." He picks them up, inspects them. "I'll go ask Natasha for her whetstone to sharpen them." He starts dressing up, has a small bashful smile at Steve's pout. The latter barely catches the shirt thrown at him and gulps at Bucky approaching with his intention written all over his face.

He straddles his thighs with a swift movement and pushes at his shoulders. Steve lets himself fall on his back with a laugh, his mouth full of hair, and Bucky straightens up with a wicked grin, already working on Steve's shirt.

"Let that be a problem for tomorrow."

Steve palms his thighs, his ass, and slips his hands into his waistband to touch as much soft plump flesh as he can reach. He bucks up when Bucky starts kissing a path down his chest, sucks bruises on his hips that Steve will feel for days.

"Fuck, you're so beautiful," Bucky growls, looking up at him. Steve brushes back his hair. “I still can’t believe you're all mine.”

"All yours, Buck. I love you so much." 

Just as he realises it's the first time he's ever told him he loves him, there's a loud bang right outside their house, like something hit the wall. They both tense up, because _what if someone saw them?_ But then Steve's dread is replaced by fear when there’s scratching after a few seconds.

 _What the fuck is that?_ Steve mouths at Bucky, who shakes his head. It could be a wild animal, but Steve has never heard anything of the sort here, and they only have squirrels and birds wandering around.

Bucky disengages himself from Steve, slowly and silently, and gathers one of his daggers. Steve does the same with the sword and shield, feeling safer as soon as he grips them.

They wait in silence, almost holding their breath, and the next scratching sound is from _inside_. Steve hasn’t heard any window opening or door creaking, so it’s almost impossible for an animal to have entered the house. Which means...

"I'll go check," he whispers.

"I'm right behind you."

Steve squares his shoulders and opens the bedroom door. It's dark in the other room, the moonlight giving a very faint glow to the room, but the oil lamp sitting on the bedside behind them cast shadows disfiguring the furniture into monsters. Steve doesn't see anything with his bad vision and doesn't notice any movement either.

"Who's there?" He calls out, glad his voice remains steady. Silence, then something shuffles in the dark.

"On the left, by the table," Bucky mutters only for him to hear. Steve turns his eyes over there, nausea overtaking him and his knees turning weak. 

"Why are you in our house? You're not welcomed here."

Someone moves closer. It seems human, but they still don't say anything. Steve discerns feet, a long dress he's seen many times, and then a face he thought he'd never see again. He chokes back a sob and steps back, collides into Bucky's solid frame. 

"Steve," the creature with his mother's face says. "Why did you leave me, Steve?"

"You're not her, you're not her! Get out of here, you're not welcomed," he repeats, fingers going numb. His heart is pumping fast in his chest. 

"You're abandoning me again, son. This will have consequences."

Bucky doesn't wait for that thing to continue. He pivots between Steve and the door, straightens out his arm to aim and throws his dagger right in its chest. It howls, scratches at the weapon until it clatters on the floor, then it leaps at them. Steve pulls Bucky to him and raises his shield just in time, the creature slamming into it. He thrusts his sword forward and hits something hard as he pushes back into it. It falls back into the table, breaks it. 

" _Tá tú díbeartha,_ " he barks out, swipes at it again with his sword, but he hits the table instead. ("You're banished.") He feels something awfully cold slips against him, and suddenly the room gets warmer. He still shivers, his body covered in cold sweat. 

"It was my ma," Steve manages to say. "This thing was in my head."

Bucky's arm embraces him gently, his hand warm on his bare stomach. "It's gone now."

"But it'll come back again, like it did before." Suddenly Steve is so angry. How dare it intrudes his home not once, but twice? He puts the shield down and retrieves the lamp to assess the damage done to his house. The table is snapped in half, and Steve starts to check if there's a way for him to repair it. He gets on his knees, brings the lamp closer and notices something catching the light. It's thicker and darker than human's, but it's definitely blood. 

"Bucky! It bled!" He follows the trail to the chimney, then hurries outside, vaguely hearing Bucky saying "It's freezing outside! At least put on your coat!" but he ignores him. He's too set on finding a trail around the house. It is indeed freezing and his teeth are clattering by the time he finds the scratches on the wall. They're deep and large, viciously done. He looks in the grass around the space. If this was the creature's entry point, there's a high probability it's its exit point as well. He almost gives up but finally finds where the grass was trampled heavily. 

"Come on, Stevie, don't get yourself sick over this." Bucky wraps him in his coat. "Did you find something at least?"

"Tracks. If Thor accepts to help us, we could hunt it down and get rid of it once and for all."

"Okay. Tomorrow. For now, I just want to go to bed and cuddle with you to reassure myself that you're okay." His hand finds his way on the nape of his neck, plays with the short hair there. "It's too dark right now."

"I don't think I'll be able to sleep," Steve admits, grips his hand to kiss it. 

"I don't think I'll be able either."

They end up curled together in bed, their bare skin touching from head to toes. Steve rests his head on Bucky's chest, comforted by his steady heartbeat. He caresses his left arm, nonplussed by the stump below his elbow. Bucky has told him before that it can be painful sometimes but is sensitive otherwise. The skin there is soft, just like the rest of him, and the scar ever softer. Bucky shivers below him. Although their previous mood has completely vanished thanks to a bloodthirsty creature, he enjoys the treatment, humming under his breath. He’s tracing random symbols on Steve’s hip.

He doesn't fall asleep for a long time, leisuring in the safe cocoon they've made of their bed. He must have slept a few hours when he wakes up at dawn. Bucky is still asleep, his handsome face relaxed and his pouty mouth swollen from sleep. Steve pecks it before he detangles himself and gets up. He retrieves his clothes quietly and leaves the room, a mission on his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When Tony tells about his life to Steve, he mentions both his mother and himself being physically abused by his father, then explains he hid his pain in alcohol and opium.
> 
> Find me on [Tumblr](http://cap-sweet-and-salty-sadness.tumblr.com/)


	5. Evil marvels are attracted to you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They follow the spirit's tracks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if there's more mistakes in this chapter than usual, I'm experimenting withdrawal symptoms from an antidepressant I stopped using, I've been having severe vertigo for almost a week now. 
> 
> [story playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/679AXYM1PPmgruMpfjt0qQ?si=j7JTWCEsQ7ipkboO2MhzKw)

Steve eats his light breakfast quickly, quietly to let Bucky rest some more. He writes a note for Bucky so he knows where he's going, and leaves for the center of the village. Thor lives near the town hall with his brother Loki. There's a small garden of various herbs growing on the side, taken care by Loki. 

The man tends to keep to himself but has been helping the other villagers with spices and dried leaves for tea he's brought from Europe. Without him food would be much more bland, but he also gives tips on what herbs help for certain ailments such as ginger for headaches and stomaches, chamomile to soothe the spirit, honey to keep wounds from infecting, and so on. 

Steve sees Loki cutting some herbs as he comes closer, wearing a thick fur coat. With his pale complexion and long black hair, he looks like an eerie being. Steve notices some tattoos on his chest, peeking through his unlaced shirt. They seem to run down his torso. He can't determine the origins of the symbols, but he doesn't have much knowledge on Scandinavian culture. 

"Good morning, Loki," he greets him politely, always unsure on how to act around the man. He's difficult to read.

"Steve. You're rarely venturing here this early." Loki assesses him, his eyes missing nothing. "Something happened."

Steve wants to protest, keeps his trouble to himself, but Loki’s gaze softens, understanding, and Steve doesn’t feel judged by him. He shifts on his feet, the crisp morning air burning his nostrils on its way down his lungs. "I came to ask Thor for his help."

"Of course. Thor is still asleep, but come inside. I have water brewing, I'll make you some tea." Without waiting for an answer, Loki picks up his basket and heads inside, leaving the door opened.

It smells good in the house, waves of something sweet and spicy hitting Steve's nose. The kitchen area is warm, decorated with multiple plants and colourful rocks resting on the window sills. Thor's hammer is resting in the middle of the table, eccentric table decoration, on top of a paper littered with different runes. Steve pushes the hammer aside to have a better look. He remembers his ma carving some of them over his bedroom's door as a child, or into small rocks she put into a sack and would use from time to time. He doesn't really know what they mean, but their shapes feel familiar, comforting.

Loki clears his throat as he puts down a steaming mug in front of him. His eyes drift to the hammer and the paper before they settle on him, to which Steve smiles sheepishly.

"I apologise, I was curious," he says, dipping his face above the tea to take a deep breath of it. "This smells wonderful, thank you."

"Can you read runes?" Loki asks him as he sits down in front of him. He wraps his longs fingers around his own mug, his nails tracing the delicate decorative swirls on it. 

"No, but my ma could. She used to say we were descendants of Cú Chulainn, not strong but courageous and brave." 

"Cú Chulainn, wasn’t it said that he was the descendant of Lugh?"

“Yes, I think so.” Steve bites his bottom lip, not willing to share more. "How about you? Are the crystals a Scandinavian tradition?"

Loki follows his gaze on the window above the counter and gets to his feet to retrieve a few of them and sets them between them. 

"These are natural sources of power, they can help in a moment of weakness and protect you." He rolls one between his hands, the translucent mineral sparkling in the sunlight. "I understand the nature around me. I respect it, and in return, it helps me." He gives the crystal to Steve. "Hold it, and tell me what you feel."

Steve does. It's lukewarm from being in Loki's hands, but there's something soothing about it, relaxing. He stares into it as he turns it around and feels suddenly calm, astonishingly considering something has attacked Bucky and him the evening before.

"I feel more grounded."

Loki smiles gently and tilts his head, his hair flowing over a narrow shoulder. "Good. It's yours now."

"Oh, thank you," Steve blinks in surprise, wondering why Loki is suddenly so kind with him. Maybe he judged him too fast and it's not arrogance that keeps him away from the others.

"I'll go fetch Thor, he's slept enough," he tells him before disappearing in the narrow hall, with two doors facing each other. He knocks and enters without prompt. Steve hears some talking but busies himself with drinking his tea and enjoying its sweet undertaste. 

He doesn't have to wait long before Thor emerges, still yawning. Steve has a glimpse of his impressive musculature as he adjusts his shirt down his stomach. "Steve! What a surprise this morning," he says with a large smile, hugging him tightly. Steve returns the hug and can't not smile at that bedhead.

"I'm afraid it's not only to enjoy both of your companies," he starts to say, but there's more shuffle coming from his bedroom. 

"And mine, I suppose," Tony pipes him, running a hand in his hair. He doesn't meet Steve’s eyes, instead skims over him before he goes to the counter to start cutting some slices of bread while Thor puts jumbals on the table. Well, Steve certainly hasn't expected their relationship to be at this stage.

"I can't say I'm surprised," he says, "although I'm disappointed you didn't say anything when I hinted about it yesterday, Tony."

Tony shrugs, still not looking at him. Thor doesn't appear to be concerned by Steve seeing them together, not that he should, but it confirms that things aren't the same where he's coming from. He puts down jam and butter on the table as well, dishes and cutlery, prepares tea for Tony and him. "How can I help you, Steve?" He asks, and that's that.

Steve links his fingers together, unsure how to begin. He knows nobody here will judge him for what he's about to say, which reassures him. As far as he's aware, no one in the village has witnessed or been the victim of such queer events. 

Tony takes out the four slices from the stove and puts them on each plate, giving Steve an inquisitive look when the latter doesn't even protest. Steve doesn't like to be fussled upon and that's a well-known fact. "What's happening, Steve? Did you get attacked in your sleep or something?" When Steve doesn't answer, everyone turns to him. "Really?"

Steve runs his index on a small cut on the back of his hand, inflicted a few days ago when he was woodworking. "That didn't come to it right away, but yes. About a month ago, I woke up in the middle of the night to something trying to scare me, telling me they were watching me, and then last night, Bucky and I woke up to scratches done on the house, before the creature somehow got inside and attacked us. We managed to make it bleed, and when it left, I found tracks."

"Did you see what it looked like?" Loki asks, face tense. 

"The first time, no, I could only feel its presence and its voice was guttural and wet-sounding, almost phlegmy. Yesterday, it took the appearance of my mother. It talked to me, tried to guilt me about her, and when I attacked it, it transformed into a black shadow and went through the wall."

Thor swore softly in his native tongue, rubs his face with a giant palm. "I’ve heard of tales with similar spirits. They can take a beloved’s appearance and make themselves visible at will. There must be something that enraged it enough for it to attack you. Perhaps your house is too close to its lair, who knows.”

"Could you follow those tracks, lead me to it?" Steve doesn't care about the risks. He'll venture forward by himself if he has to, but he won't have Bucky be in danger anymore because of that thing. 

"Of course. Loki might be better at it, if it's of otherworldly nature."

Steve doesn't miss the glare Loki sends his brother. "We've discussed this over, Thor," he reprimands him, continues in their native tongue. They discuss between each other for a while, looking serious. Steve and Tony exchange a look, curious as to what seems important enough that they don't want to share it. Steve understands privacy, so he doesn't pry, and eats his toast and some jumbals. 

"Tell your mother she's a really good baker," he tells Tony, who smiles.

"I will. She has a sweet spot for you, it'll only grow if you compliment her."

"She barely knows me," Steve protests with a chuckle.

"She meets with some of the older people of the village, pretends they're working on ideas to improve, but they're only gossiping about everyone. Apparently Mrs. Barnes talks a lot about you, living with her son and being so kind with everyone."

"It's mutual help, I've never done anything more than anybody else. You've been helping with all your inventions and making sure everyone is safe with your weapons and security measures."

"It's true no one can measure up to my _geniusness_ ,” Tony winks with a smug look.

Steve huffs a laugh, used to Tony's cockiness. He can see right through his schemes, knows he's not as confident as he tries to make it appear. 

"I'll come along," Loki finally settles on, switching back to English. He takes his plate and heads for his room. "I'll go prepare myself, I'll be needing a few things."

"Thank you, Loki," Steve says, relieved. However the two brothers work together will improve their chance at finding the spirit. 

"Don't think I won't come along, you won't get rid of me this easily," Tony says. Thor looks at him with love taking over his features. Whether or not their relationship is still blooming, Thor is already completely enamored with Tony. .

"Aye, I wouldn't expect any less from you, love," he says, grabbing his hand. Tony smiles, pleased, and tightens his hold.

They decide to meet back at Steve and Bucky’s house. Steve feels jittery the whole way back, nervous but eager to stop the spirit once and for all from bothering anyone ever again. 

Bucky is on the porch in the rocking chair, sharpening his daggers, Natasha's whetstone held between his strong thighs. He looks up when he hears him, and Steve feels a smile forming on his face despite himself. His hair reaches down to his jaw now, some strands swaying in front of his eyes, and he shaved. With the morning light washing his face in warm hues, he’s simply gorgeous.

"Have you been awake for long?" Steve wants to lick his jaw and memorises it down on paper.

"No, it's my day off at the farm. A good thing, all things considered. Have you spoken with Thor?"

They go inside, away from the possibility of prying eyes. "I have. Him, Loki and Tony are coming here soon so we can begin."

"What was Tony doing there so early?" Bucky asks, but figures out the answer before Steve has time to answer. "Don't tell me him and Thor are finally getting it on?"

"They certainly are, and then some. Thor is probably already in love with Tony."

"Good for them. Everyone deserves some happiness."

Steve pulls him closer to kiss him, brushing back his hair to feel his smooth cheeks. "We certainly do," he breathes out, teasing his bottom lip with his tongue. Bucky grabs him around the waist and kisses him back, sucking on his tongue.

"Do you think it means we could, you know, perhaps tell them? About us?" Bucky asks him between heated kisses. He's half-sitting on a cluttered counter, his left elbow hooked behind Steve's neck so he stays close. Steve wouldn't move either way. 

"If that's something you want. I don't mind either way."

"Not right away, but at least we know we can trust some people."

"That's very true." Bucky gasps at the kisses Steve litters along his throat. "You know, we didn't finish what we started yesterday…”

“And we certainly can't do anything right now. Our friends will arrive and I'll be holding a tent in my trousers for everyone to stare at. I'd rather only have you looking at it."

Steve snorts out and laughs. "You're impossible."

"I love you too." Bucky kisses his cheek before he hops down and adjusts his clothes. 

"You can't just tell me things like that and leave," Steve puffs, slightly annoyed but mostly bewildered. He strides after him and scoops him in his arms, spinning him once before letting go. Bucky throws his head back to laugh at his antics. 

A knock on the door calms down any left arousal. Steve greets the trio while Bucky quickly disappears into the bedroom to tame his hair that Steve has messed up. 

"Looks like a storm came through here," Tony remarks about the broken table. The blood on the floor is surprisingly still intact, a reminder of what’s at stake.

"More or less," Bucky agrees, looking impeccable with his hair brushed and tucked behind his ears. 

Loki crouches over the blood to inspect it. "Black as the night," he mutters, touching it. Normal blood would be long dried by now, but Loki is able to pick up some the viscous liquid without problem. He examines it over the light, rubs it between his fingers. Finally, he shakes his head. "I ignore what the spirit could be, I've never seen anything like it."

"Let's go outside, so you can show us the damage?" Thor suggests. He's brought his hammer with him, hanging to his belt. Steve ties his belt with his sword around his waist, takes his shield, and shows them the way. Bucky hasn't seen the damage on the house yet, and he whistles when he does. 

"No wonder I thought at first it was thunder."

"Those scratches are quite deep and tall, which means the spirit is as well, with large claws. It got inside and outside through here, you said?"

"Yes, as a sort of intangible form.”

Something that doesn't care for walls is even more dangerous, and Steve tries not to think too hard about the danger behind that notion. What if it came more than twice, has watched him work and sleep, lurking from the shadows? What does it know about him that he hasn't shared with others?

“It's something I only ever heard about, but I'll try my best." 

Thor observes the ground for a moment, hums under his breath. “I fail to understand why it turned back solid so quickly.” 

“Because of its injury perhaps,” Loki suggests. “Or it can do it only for a limited amount of time.”

“Or it thought it’d be safe once in the forest,” Bucky adds. Steve doesn’t want to imagine if indeed, it has minions protecting it.

Thor points at the line of trees. "Let me have a look over there, it'll be more difficult through the density of the trees but if the pattern is the same, I will be fine."

They follow the tracks into the forest. The light, which is bright this morning, considerably dims out. It's colder too, or perhaps only in Steve's mind. 

The footprints in the ground are uneven, one foot bigger than the other one, and drops of blood are scattered every now and then. It's easy to follow at first, but as they get deeper, the tracks get fainter. Tony has brought a more performing lamp but even with it, Thor has more and more trouble tracking.

"Loki," he calls out to the man who's further away from them, harvesting some mushrooms from a tree. He grunts in response to Thor. "Come have a look."

"In a moment. I've never ventured this side of the forest before."

"Of course you'd come here all alone," Bucky says, unimpressed. 

"I need your help, brother. Here." Thor rips a handful of grass dirtied with blood, shoves it at Loki. "Can you trace the blood?"

Steve frowns, bewildered that Thor would suggest Loki is like an animal who can follow scents. "Is this an appropriate way to—" 

"Hush, Steve, I meant no disrespect. Loki has talents few have, and I need you all to promise me that none of what you're about to see will be shared with the other villagers." Thor’s blue eyes flicker brighter for a second, or so Steve thinks, but the light disappears before he can fully analyse it. 

Steve has a faint idea of what he's talking about, understands better the discussion he's had with the younger Odinson this morning. "Of course."

"Won't pipe a word," Tony agrees. 

Bucky nods. "I'm interested in what you can do, Loki, but we also need a plan on how to proceed once we find it."

"We have a plan: attack. It's simple," Steve shoots back, his tone meant for no arguing, but then Bucky crosses his arms. 

"And we need to know how to proceed with that. We don't know what it can do, it knows more about us than the other way around. It was quite vicious when it attacked us, we can't just barge in and hope it'll impale itself on your sword."

"Bucky is right, perhaps we should need more people to bring it down. I'm sure Clint would be available to—" Thor is interrupted by Steve.

"No. It's too fast for his arrows. He would be an easy prey for it with nothing to defend himself up close, and I don’t want to put more people in danger."

"Alright," Tony claps his hands together. "I brought firepower, is that sufficient to reassure everyone that we can, in fact, take down whatever evil creature lurks in those woods?"

“There’s more than one,” Bucky says as he shakes his head. "Steve, you and I both saw the same things in that weird house in the middle of nowhere, we know there's more beings - spirits, demons, whatever you want to name them - in this forest than we’re aware of. The creature could be in a lair with others of its kind."

"Maybe, we can't know until we go there. It's easier to kill it right now while it's injured than wait to gather more people. It might also move away or already be gone."

Loki raises up a hand. He's watched the exchange in silence until now, annoyance growing on his face. "I have a solution. I have chalk in my bag, someone will be marking the trees while I follow the tracks, so if anything happens and we come across a problem we can't resolve right away, we'll come back. Does that settle everyone's mind? Good. Now, shut up and step back please, I need to concentrate."

Loki gives the chalk to Thor, and it's decided he'll mark the trees. Steve suspects Tony would draw graphic pictures as marks, so best be the tall Scandinavian. 

Loki smears the blood in his left palm, retrieves a small bottle filled with golden liquid he dribbles a few drops of on the blood as well. He mixes the substance with his index, spelling something in a foreign language that doesn't sound the same as when he speaks with Thor. He pops his finger in his mouth, then licks his palm. Tony jerks away in disgust, shaking his head.

"Let him do his spell," Thor tells him with his quietest voice.

"That's what it is, then?" Bucky comments at Steve, observing Loki as he closes his eyes and drops his head, as if in prayer. 

"We've seen stranger things since settling here," Steve shrugs. He adjusts the weight of his shield strapped to his forearm, shifts uneasily. He keeps surveying around, sure he'll see something unnatural come at them sooner or later. He jerks tensely at Bucky's soft gasp. Loki has started walking fast into the dark, and Tony hurries to follow him so he sees where he's stepping.

"Come on," he calls the others, and they continue. The small animals are restless around them, birds chirping and what might be wolves howling, the wind whistling in the trees. They see deers, what they believe are tall, big moose, and more than once Steve sees black fluffy forms scrambling out of his vision which reveal to be squirrels. It's reassuring until Steve notices they get quieter and quieter, their sight rarer. Only the sounds of their footsteps in the leaves and their sniffing from the cold echo around them. 

"I feel like we're being watched," Bucky mumbles beside him, one of his daggers in his hand. 

"I feel the same," Steve admits, puffing condensation out of his mouth. The fur of his collar is wet from his own breath, and sweat has gathered to his armpits and down his back, an horrible mix with the cold air. 

Thor turns to them and nods solemnly. He also has his hammer in hand. "Remain vigilant, my friends. Tony, please remain at my side."

"As if you needed to ask me." Still, Tony steps closer, having to walk faster to keep up with his long strides.

"I'm being serious, love, I'd rather have you in my sight."

Tony replies, but Steve barely hears over the sudden high-pitched noise in his ears. He swears loudly and presses his hands against this ears in a vain attempt to muffle the sound, but it's in his head. He falls to his knees, gritting his teeth, and waits for what seems to be an eternity to pass. 

"Steve, what is it?" Bucky is kneeling beside him, his left arm pressed against his back.

"You didn't hear any of it?"

"I actually hear nothing, it's worrisome."

Steve groans, frustrated, and takes his head between his hands. What is wrong with him? "None of you heard that shrill?"

He hears negatives, and when he looks up, Loki is looking back at him with glowing green eyes. "Come on, it's not that far now."

Bucky helps him to his feet, offering his left arm for support if Steve needs it. He squeezes it tightly and is reassured by the weight. "It felt like my head was going to explode."

"It's so odd that none of us heard it but you."

"Should we even be surprised by that point?" Tony says. “Evil marvels are attracted to you.”

"I wonder if settling here was a good idea, for all the trouble it brought us," Thor ponders aloud, and Steve can see Tony is slightly hurt by his words. "Not only we discovered the nearest river is going to be deviated in a few years, but then we have a haunted forest as our neighbours. Were it not for our hasty decision, we could be living away from such things."

Tony's body loses its tension. "Then we'd have different problems, Thor. If I've learnt anything, is that there's always a problem, no matter where you are."

Steve can't see Thor very well in this dim light, only his hair down his back is light enough, but then he turns his head towards Tony and he sees the way his jaw is set, his brow furrowed. Steve thinks Tony has touched a sore point, and he wonders once again what is the Odinsons brothers’ backstory. As far as he knows, it remains a secret to this day, or only Tony would know and his words mean something only the two of they know.

He's brought out of his thoughts by the change of scenery that Steve only remembers too well. "We've come here before, Bucky and I." They step into the clearing once again, where the English house once was. 

“Buck, do you think— fuck!" He stumbles onto what he assumes is a rock and starts to fall forward with a yelp. He hasn't let go of Bucky's left arm who pulls him back, also reaching with his right hand to steady him. He's saved him from splitting his head open.

"That was close," Bucky says with a relieved look. He swipes Steve's bangs out of his eyes.

"Thank you. You keep helping me back on my feet." Steve bites his lip. “I must’ve have stepped on a rock.” When he looks back in the grass, there’s nothing. He sighs. “I’m not even surprised anymore.”

They continue through the other side of the clearing, where they’ve never been before. The ground gets uneven and dips down to masses of natural rock, some with impressive openings created over time. They bypass a hole in the ground, and when Steve doesn’t look down, in fear something will be looking back.

Loki stops near a cave with a narrow opening, almost hidden by moss and tree roots. It's pitch black inside, eerily quiet. Steve can see there's something carven in the sides, but he can't discern what it is from this distance.

"It lives inside. It must be a predator, mostly active at night, ” Loki says.

They decide to venture inside despite the danger of it to assert how many creatures there are, despite Bucky's reluctance. Steve can see that he isn’t worried for himself, but for the others and Steve specifically.

"This thing has a vendetta against you, Stevie, and you're literally throwing yourself into the beast's mouth." He groans in annoyance, his knuckles turned white from tightly holding his dagger. "But when could I ever make change your mind, you stubborn blunberbass? At least I’m here to protect your back, so let's go."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on [Tumblr](http://cap-sweet-and-salty-sadness.tumblr.com/)


	6. Tá tú díbeartha

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here we are at the last chapter and epilogue. This is five months of work completed, and I hope you've enjoyed reading it just as much as I loved writing it. <3
> 
> Warnings for this chapter: Explicit violence, typical from what has already occured in previous chapters. 
> 
> I forgot to change something in the last chapter about what Tony brings: it's not explosives, but firepower. Still as badass.

They head in, Loki at the front, then Tony, Thor, Steve and Bucky closes up the line. Tony's lamp illuminates well enough, for they step in a very narrow passage they all need to crouch to go through. It leads to a very tall cave, the walls made of layered sharp flat rocks. Bucky discovers it unfortunately when he straightens up and his shoulder catches on an edge. He hisses, swearing quietly between his teeth.

Steve shifts to have a look, slips his hand inside his collar to feel his skin. His coat has absorbed the hit, Steve doesn't feel an opened wound or blood, but it'll probably leave a wound. "It's not bleeding."

"That's good at least. I've heard enough tales of creatures lured by blood."

The walls narrow further as they continue, Steve’s shoulders barely fitting, but he sees Tony's light a bit further and hurries. He has a feeling it’s best neither Bucky or him stray too far. There's multiple corridors, and only Loki knows the way, so he doesn't want to lose them out of his sight. He's not sure he could find the exit by himself. 

Sounds echo on the walls, give him the illusion monsters await in every nook of the caverns. They come to a bigger room where the path parts in two. On the walls, pictograms are carved and decorated with some rusty pigment. Steve swipes his finger on a symbol and retracts just as fast. It's blood.

Blood all over, used like paint. Nausea builds up in his throat, and he drops to his knees, dry heaving. Reality hits him hard, of what they're here to do, what their life has become. From settling down in a new land to becoming demon hunters. His mother has told him of tales depicting fairies building circles made of mushrooms, guiding humans in time of lost despair. She’d said they'd never attack them without a reason. 

Thor is right, they are intruders. And now they're paying the price.

He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, exhaling slowly. There's a lingering foul smell in here and he can only imagine the reason. He swallows hard, puts his hand on the pommel of his sword to reassure himself, and forces himself to stand. The end is nigh, he won't fail.

Only the others are nowhere to be seen.

He looks in every direction, but he can't see any light source. It's actually pretty dark in here, and only some openings in the ceilings allow him to see beyond his hands. He's sure they wouldn't just leave without him, so why haven't they waited for him? 

Since the beginning of those peculiar, unfortunate events, he’s always been lucky to be surrounded by his friends and lover, together to fight. But now… now he’s truly alone. 

"Bucky?" He calls out, his voice echoing in the different halls. He tries to find footsteps, any hints of where they might've gone, and chooses a direction on a whim. He takes long, steady breaths through his mouth not to smell the corpses. He looks at the three corridors and takes one, following his instinct.

He can barely see as he progresses through the narrow passage, guiding himself with the walls. He collects many cuts and scrapes that way but persists, because what else can he do? He can't hear anything but the woosh of the eerie wind coming from further away. Somehow he knows it's the right way.

He needs to go sideways a few times because it's so narrow, and at one point he thinks he can’t make it through, but he pushes his arm, then his head, and usually if the head can go through, the rest can. He twists and his shirt rips on a sharp rock, but he goes through and arrives in a grotto of a sort. An opening in the ceiling casts a pool of light on someone prone and unmoving.

Steve's heart stops when he recognises Bucky's form. Something is crouched over him, its hand hovering over his head, but turns its attention to Steve when he shouts in alarm.

"Don't touch him.” He unsheathes his sword. It starts laughing, a grotesque moist sound, and for a second Steve thinks it killed Bucky. 

"You brought me to your village, Steve, showed me the way," it says. Steve frowns, thrown aback by the reply, and steps closer, branding his sword.

"Get away from him, you ugly thing, and fight me instead."

The creature rises to its feet and is suddenly much taller than Steve, its head almost touching the ceiling. It doesn't make any sense, it was so small not a moment ago. If this thing can shapeshift, there's no way to know if it hasn't been spying on the village beforehand. It seems to know him personally and, for whatever reason, wants to hurt him the most.

He jerks away when it swipes at him. He aims and hurls his shield in a wild circle against the wall that bounces back and hits it in the shoulder. He doesn't wait for it to recover and runs at it, slashes the back of its feet and recuperates his shield. He doesn't expect the hand shoving him into the wall face first. His head rings and he gets dizzy for a second, nausea rising in his throat. 

He still manages to shrug off its hold, breathing through the pain. He can feel warm blood stream down from his nose, the metallic taste filling his mouth. 

He charges back. It's an unfair battle, but being smaller than the creature allows him to dart between its legs and attack those before it can catch him. 

He knows he's hit something serious when blood starts pouring down its thighs. It hurls and turns around to approach Bucky, intending to kill him while it still can. Steve won't allow it. He aims with his shield and throws it again. He hits its head so hard he rips a part of the skull, exposing the brain underneath. It screeches in pain and starts curling up on itself, shrinking until it's smaller than Steve. 

He lifts his foot and stomps on it, again and again until it's nothing but a mess of organs and bodily fluids on the ground. He turns to Bucky to check on him, but he's not there anymore. He looks back down and there's nothing there either. No blood, no sign he's just fought the creature.

"What's happening?" He whispers in utter confusion, his voice distorted in the grotto. 

"You're here," Bucky sighs from behind him, relief in his voice. He looks well and alive, but Steve still grasps his shoulders to make sure he’s real.

"I couldn't see you anymore."

"Really? You started looking at something and walked out on us without waiting. You didn't even seem to hear me when I was calling your name."

"But... the creature was here. I fought it."

Loki appears beside Bucky and looks at him with those still glowing eyes. "There’s traces of magic lingering on you. You're right, it was here, luring you closer, but you chased it out of your mind."

"I'm not sure I understand. Did I kill it?"

"Only its presence in your head. With some luck, it will be weakened from your two assaults."

"Some luck, you say," Bucky says. "Steve was possessed and ventured on his own, I wouldn't call this luck."

"He's mostly uninjured now, is what matters," Loki reassures him. "Ah, Thor, you managed through."

"Not with your help, that's for sure." Thor is out of breath as he joins them. He's got stone dust all over him, he must've widened the passage to be able to go through. Tony is barely visible behind him except for the halo of light his lamp is projecting.

"I'm glad you can hear us now, that was such a bizarre experience and I never want to see you like that again," is the first thing he blurts out. He comes forward and waves his hand in front of Steve's face. "You can hear me, right?"

"I can, Tony," Steve says and pushes his hand away, frustrated.

"I'm pretty sure all the monsters in this cave heard you too," Bucky adds. 

"One certainly did," Thor growls, staring at something on the ceiling. He takes his hammer, starts swirling it fast, and sends it flying. It crashes hard into something that falls on the ground in a lump. Tony curses and illuminates it. The creature looks injured but bounces right back on a wall and starts running on it on all fours, then leaps towards Bucky as it reaches the top. 

Steve has seen his lover injured on the floor once, close to death. He doesn’t want a repeated experience. He jumps in front of Bucky, shield raised, and receives the full weight of the creature with a grunt. Its form has turned humanoid once again; its skin, grey with completely black, soulless eyes. Its limbs are longer and more flexible than average, Steve notes as it wraps its fingers on the shield's edge and grins at him with sharp yellow teeth, too long to be contained in its mouth. 

It uses his hold on his shield to tug him closer and lash at him. Steve tries to dodge the hit but he can feel long scratches burn across his cheek and temple. He lets go of the shield just as a dagger cuts the air beside him to land into its arm. It hisses and throws back the dagger at Bucky who deflects it with one of Tony’s pistols and shoots at it. 

Thor extends his arm and his hammer comes to him like two magnets reunited. He swings at the creature from underneath, catching it on the jaw and sending it crashing backwards into the column in the middle.

"Why can't it just die already?" Tony exclaims in frustration. He crouches and puts the lamp aside to retrieve something from his bag, staying further away from everyone. Steve sees something big and shiny before his attention turns back to the creature just as it vanishes into the darkness. 

Steve and Bucky go back to back to cover each other, wary of their surroundings. It's Loki who finds it. He magically pulls from the ground a large rock and hurls it in a corner. It cracks in half and through it emerges the creature bigger than before. It takes one half of the same rock and throws it back at Tony, but Thor gets in between, easily breaking the projectile with his hammer and jumping at its throat with a snarl. They fight in a flur of movements faster than Steve can track.

"What's that?" Bucky asks Tony who's busy assembling something.

"You'll see. Help me with it, will you?"

Steve retrieves his shield and joins again the fight with a well placed sword hit, slicing the creature's thigh deeply. It's looking quite rough but seems to get more aggressive the more injured it gets, and Steve isn't sure he can keep dodging its claws for long.

"Move!" Tony warns them just as he's thinking this, and they all jump out of the way. He activates the assembled device in his arms and a long lick of flame springs out to engulf the creature. Its loud shriek bounces off the walls. It tries to escape but Loki steps forward and casts a spell to cage it in a magical dome filled with fire. Tony turns off his weapon so the fire doesn't spread and gets out of control. They watch as it fights the hold on him, the basic need to survive taking over.

"Help me banish it, Steve," Loki calls out. Banish it? How is Steve supposed to do that? Just as he asks himself, he knows. It's been bubbling underneath his skin since they've stepped inside this cave, since he's seen that creature take his mother's appearance in his own house. There's a power in him that wants to get out, his fingertips tingling. He slides back his sword in his cabbard and steps beside Loki.

"How do I—?"

"Focus on it, imagine it spreading out from yourself."

Steve follows his instructions. He doesn't fully understand why he's the one who lured it to the village, or how he could even do such thing, but it's his duty to make sure it doesn't come back. He wants to see that creature gone and away from them, from the people he cares about.

He doesn't feel any different until he hears a slight gasp and opens his eyes to blue light emerging from his fingers and surrounding Loki's trap. The light fills it in, and he can tell the creature is fighting over him again, but he's beat him in his mind and so it doesn't have any hold on him anymore.

" _Tá tú díbeartha,_ " he growls out. He reaches out and the air splits in half in the dome. (“You are banished.”) Dark colours swirl through the opening, a window on a different twisted world, one not meant for humans. Steve forces the creature through that window and _closes_ _it._

He's trembling, he realises, his legs trembling, and he starts gasping for air like he hasn't breathed in a few minutes. Bucky and Thor are on either side of him to make sure he doesn't fall.

"Well, that was... unexpected," Tony says slowly, walking over where the creature has been a mere moment ago. He hovers his hand around and looks pensive.

"What did you tell it, Steve?"

Steve rubs his forehead with the back of his wrist, a headache forming there. "That it was banished. It just felt right to say that."

"As it should. Here, eat those." Loki gives him a small bag filled with different types of nuts that Steve starts munching on right away, suddenly famished. "There's no reason to linger here any longer, I don't detect any other living being in this cave system."

His eyes dim down to reveal their normal green colour.

"Let's get out of here, this place has given me enough whim-whams as it is," Bucky says, and everyone agrees. Steve already feels better with some food, but he's not very talkative on the way back. Instead they listen to Tony rant over how his weapons have saved them all and the ways he intends on improving the flamethrower. His voice is a nice distraction from Steve's own thoughts.

Returning to the village is much faster for they know where they're heading. On a silent agreement, they go to Loki and Thor's house. Thor puts some logs in the stove and warms up stew from the previous night while Loki puts bread and butter on the table. 

They both refuse help when the three others offer it. Loki squeezes Steve's shoulder as he gives him a mug of hot tea, and Steve doesn't know what to make of this change in behaviour. Obviously the man has been hiding his true personality and how much he actually cares behind his cold facade, and Steve wonders why he's been scared of showing his true self.

Bucky slips his hand into Steve's under the table and doesn't let go of him until the meal is ready, and by then he scoots closer to press their thighs together. Steve appreciates the constant touch. They more or less devour their food in silence, recovering from that painful adventure. Tony seems to be the calmest, strangely enough, and keeps exchanging looks with Thor sitting beside him. Thor tucks him against him once they're done eating, unbothered about showing his affection.

"We vanquished that thing, haven’t we?" He's grinning, satisfied. "Congratulations on Loki and Steve for banishing it. I have some strong whiskey, shall we celebrate in proper order?"

"I don't think tonight's a good time for that, big guy," Tony points out gently. Steve nods solemnly. All he wants is some sleep.

"I don't know how to thank you for coming with us today. It was dangerous, and yet you didn't hesitate to risk your life."

"It put the village's safety at risk, of course we wanted to help," Thor replies.

"All I'm asking in return is you speak to no one of what you saw us both do today," Loki adds with a tense face. "You have to promise me."

"Of course," is Steve's immediate response.

"We're all running from something, aren't we?" Bucky gently adds.

They leave soon after, Steve still tired and in dire need of a mid-afternoon nap. It makes him remember how he used to be in bed for days when he was younger due to his bad health, constantly ill.

It's started snowing while they were at Thor and Loki's. Big fluffy snowflakes are falling in silence, the air calm around them. They make the walk in silence and are greeted by the sorry mess of their table in the middle of the room. Bucky sets to put firewood in the fireplace before he joins Steve in the bedroom. Steve doesn't bother with his nightshirt and simply undresses completely to slip under the covers naked. It's cold and he finds himself shivering until Bucky settles beside him.

"That thing you did in the cave, did it ever happen before?" Steve knows Bucky's asking because he's genuinely curious, but it still angers him out of frustration.

"I don't want to talk about it right now. Hold me, please?" Steve muffles in his shoulder, turns his head to bury his face in his neck. Bucky wraps his arms around him and presses his cold nose into his hair, breathing him in.

Steve sleeps soundlessly, a deep slumber that smoothes out the raw edges of what just has occurred. When he wakes up, he's alone in the bed and the spot next to him is cold. It's dusk, the faint remaining light showing everything covered in snow. Steve puts on a night shirt and thick woolen socks, grimaces at the way his hair keeps falling before his eyes. He needs a haircut. 

"Buck?" He calls out with a yawn. Bucky has been busy. He's cleared out the table, swiped the wood splinters and tidied the house. 

"Had a good nap, sleepyhead?" Bucky smiles at him from the rocking chair where he's reading. Steve can smell something delicious cooking in a pot. He also spots Mrs. Barnes' oatcakes on the counter and immediately snatches one.

"I did. How long was I sleeping for?"

"A few hours. I was starting to think you might sleep for the entire night, you seemed to need it."

Steve shrugs and perches himself on Bucky's lap, throwing his legs over the armrest. He gives half his cake to him. Heat pools in his belly when Bucky takes it and licks the crumbs off his fingers once he's done, giving him a smug look.

"I put the table outside. I didn't know if you want to completely scrap it or repair it."

Steve plays with Bucky's collar laces, unties them so he can smoothes his fingers along his bare collarbones. He has lovely shoulders that Steve wants to bite every time he has the chance. "It was my first attempt at woodworking, actually. One of the legs was wonky and the surface uneven, but I was so proud of it when I made it. I thought, maybe I'm not so useless here."

"Steve, you helped build nearly every house while yours is two small rooms. I've been thinking, we could add another room, move your woodworking area there."

"But, it's started snowing. Won't it make building difficult?"

"It won't last, trust me. The first snow usually melts. Beside, it wouldn't take that long with some help, perhaps a week at most."

It's true Steve has been wondering how he'll continue working on his commissions with winter approaching and him mainly working outside, but he's thought about simply using a tarp as a temporary roof. It wouldn't be the first time he spends his days in the cold weather, but he's not sure his hands would be as dexterous after a few hours.

"That'd be great. We can start by using the logs I've kept on the side for the foundations."

"Oh. I'm surprised you conceded this easily."

Steve snorts a laugh and kisses him. "I'm not that difficult."

"Uh-huh. Keep telling yourself that," Bucky replies, but a side of his mouth is curled upwards, his steel blue eyes mischievous. He adjusts his arm around Steve's middle, the fire crackling soothingly nearby them.

"That thing I did earlier with my mind, I didn't know I could do that," Steve softly admits. "Remember when I said I didn't think my mother was a witch?"

"I do."

"Well... Maybe I lied about it, to you and myself. I..." Steve frowns. "She never confirmed to me those rumours were true, and I always assumed they weren't, but perhaps I was wrong."

"It doesn't change who she was, or who you are."

"Buck, I opened a door to another world with my mind. How am I supposed not to think of myself differently? How can _you_ not?"

Bucky tips his head upwards so he can stare down into his eyes. "Because I've seen what you can do, Steve, I've seen the magic extend out of you, and I wasn't scared. Far from it. It was beautiful. You saved our lives." His words are filled with reverence, and slowly, Steve starts to believe him. 

After they eat dinner and Bucky goes to bed early, Steve finds himself bundled up under a heavy throw in his rocking chair. He's slowly carving a small statue of a man with focused strokes, collecting the splinters in a bowl on his lap. Working with his hands allows him to clear his mind, and that's what he needs right now. 

He's been trying to figure out how he's missed all the signs about his mother over the years. Has he been that deluded, refusing to see how his mother would sometimes put away whatever she's been doing when he walked in the room, staying outside late and a few times not even back home before he'd gone to bed? He always figured out she had a secret lover and would mention it to him once she was ready, but she never had.

Steve swears softly when his knife scrapes against the wood and slices his thumb. Luckily it's not a deep cut, and he plops the digit in his mouth to stop the bleeding. He exhales loudly through his nose, leaning back against the chair and looking at the ceiling. 

It takes him a moment to remember why there’s a black box sitting on one of the beams. How he could've forgotten in the first place is beyond him, but he supposes that with everything happening lately, that's what would happen. He puts his tools aside and pulls a dinner chair over so he can stand on it to retrieve the box. It's covered in dust and he sneezes when it gets in his face. He sets it in front of the fire and sits cross-legged so he can investigate it. He hasn't even opened it yet. 

His own drawings greet him on top of the pile, and he slowly go through them, trying to understand why his mother would keep them. Some of them are from his youth, little doodles smudged with time, the paper crisp and almost breaking despite his careful hold. He sees a drawing of his ma and him holding hands, with small fireflies floating around them, little blue freckles. There used to be so many of them during the warm summer nights. Why would he draw them blue? 

Those... might not have been fireflies. He bites his lip, trying to remember when he'd seen such little creatures, but he comes up short. The next drawing is similar, his ma and him accompanied by a large creature that is very similar to a deer, except their head and antler are much bigger, and there's a glint in their eyes that unsettles Steve. The last drawing is their house in blunt strokes, with the garden his ma kept all year long despite the cold. Now that he thinks about it, he wonders how she could've done such feat with their little resources.

There's one of her necklaces that she always wore, a beautiful emerald on a long silver chain that she never removed. He takes it and puts it over his head, the pendant falling over his heart under his opened collar. It warms up quickly to his skin, and he finds himself stroking the stone before he continues diving in. 

A floral scent hits his nose and he quickly discovers why, tucked in on the side. He picks up the delicate dry flowers and brings them to his nose to breathe them in. They're from his hometown, kept in pristine condition. His eyes burn from remembering how her mother smelled exactly like this, and he has to turn away for a moment, his vision too blurry. Tears stream down his face and he does nothing to stop them, instead retrieving Bucky's handkerchief to wipe his face. He clears his throat quietly and drinks some water cold enough to soothe his tight throat.

He finds her diary at the bottom. He hesitates to read it, but curiosity gets the best of him. He's sure she would've asked him to burn it if she didn't mean for him to read it. The leather bound cover is old and soft in his hands, supple in a way that signifies how much love she put into this book. He opens it to the first page and begins to read.

_This diary belongs to Sarah McCarthy_

He spends the entire night reading it, only stopping to feed the fire and get himself some tea that is more meant to keep him company than actually drink. His mother's life wasn’t what he imagined. She wasn't from the same small village he grew up in, but from Dublin where she tried her best to live the life her family was expecting of her, but something else was calling out to her. Instead of waiting for a suitor to offers money to her parents, she worked as a barmaid and did odd jobs to rent a room by herself. A wave of plague had just devastated the city, her family fortunately escaping the disease, and it gave her plenty of opportunities as the city rebuilt itself.

She met a woman working closeby who would visit the pub every once in a while and through their talking, understood she was part of a group of friends who weren't Christians. Instead they worshipped the celtic deities of their ancestors, in particular from the Otherworld. She met the group and got along with them instantly. _Finally_ , she'd written, _somewhere where I belong_. 

Learning about the different deities opened a new door for her, and when she discovered Lug, He somehow felt familiar already. She knew that name, but from where, she couldn’t remember. When she paid her mandatory visit to her parents and asked them about Him, they said she used to dream of Him as a child, but had stopped as she grew older. 

Meeting that deity again felt like coming back home, being wrapped in an embrace warming up her heart and appeasing her mind. He was who encouraged her to discover her true value, for He knew more about her than she did. There had been another seed in her He nudged, causing it to grow and blossom inside of her, and then the first time she succeeded a spell, she knew her value.

She didn't let it reign over her life, keeping her powers a secret from most for a good reason and only practicing magic in the intimacy of her house and with her trusted friends. She met Steve's father through that same circle and fell in love at first sight.

The inquisition was getting stronger at that time, and Steve reads how his mother got scared to be discovered one day even though she'd never hurt a soul. His father tried to reassure her, until he was the one being captured and thrown in a witch trial. He was judged guilty and set to burn on stake. Sarah spent his last days visiting him and trying to find someone to listen to her, her own safety be damned. No one listened, and on April 12 1664, Steve's father was burnt alive.

Using mourning as an excuse, Sarah moved away from Dublin, pregnant with Steve. She didn’t know of any other pagan who wasn’t dead and it was too dangerous to practice her beliefs in plain sight, so when there was an opportunity to move a little bit further from the center of the village, she took it. She continued celebrating the festivals and making offerings, quietly but still as devoted. Steve remembers those days, when she'd bring him out in the forest and they'd bury food or objects in the ground with their bare hands so they could feel the earth. He didn’t realise it's not something everyone practice until she sat him down and explained to him he can't talk about this around the Catholic children. 

"What if someone asks me?"

"Tell them there's only one god, that should do it."

She mentioned him a lot in her diary, repeating how proud she was of him, and in one of her last entries, that she wouldn’t allow him to be scared to show who he was like she was all her life. She’d heard of ships departing for the New World, ships they could afford if she worked harder. Now, if only that cough could get better...

When he finishes reading, it's dawn. Bucky is about to wake up, so he puts the kettle on the oven to start some tea and prepares breakfast. He watches the sun appear on the horizon, illuminating the melting snow. 

He hears Bucky paddling closer with a yawn and smiles when he hugs him from behind, propping his chin on Steve's shoulder.

Steve grabs his hand to kiss his knuckles and turns in his arms. "Good morning, love." There’s something adorable about seeing Bucky still soft with sleep, his lips swollen and pliant under his.

"Good morning,” Bucky nuzzles his cheek, breathing him in. “You didn't come to bed, have you?"

"No. I found my ma's last belongings. Well, I saw the box up there and remembered what it was. It's been sitting there all these months, and only last night did I find it."

"Fate?" Bucky slides his hand down his torso to settle against his hip.

"Maybe. I don't know."

"What's in it? If you want to share, of course."

Steve turns to him, serious. "There's nothing I don't want to share with you, Buck. I love you."

Bucky’s gaze softens, mistens up. His hand slides up his back and brings him flush against him. “I want to share everything with you too. Even if we have to pretend to be two friends living together until the end of the line.”

Steve laughs and kisses him, suddenly too happy for words. They kiss until their lips become numb, Steve’s heart ready to explode. As they eat on the bed, Steve finally confides in him.

"There was my ma's diary. She talks about how she returned to our family's religious practices and how she discovered her magical abilities through the deity she worshipped. She talks about my pa too. She never mentioned him in front of me except when I'd pester her with questions as a child. There's everything in that diary, Bucky, all my answers."

**Epilogue:** **_dúisigh_ **

Weeks fly by, wrapped under the snow blanket of winter. The room addition takes less time than anticipated, with the help of Clint, Thor, Peggy and Natasha. Steve moves his worktable in the room and sets on crafting the base for a couch. Mrs. Barton gives him pillows to put on to make it more comfortable. Bucky asks him for a bookshelf so he builds that as well, making it the height of the wall so they have plenty of space for storage. His ma's diary goes near the top.

More people have started making offerings to the forest' spirits, and nothing strange has occurred ever since. It's quiet for the first time since they've settled here.

One day when Bucky is gone to do some ice fishing with Thor, Steve prepares himself a snack to put in his satchel along with Loki's crystal, throws on his thickest cape lined with fur, and walks into the woods by himself. It's not particularly cold that day, but enough that Steve's toes start numbing in his boots after a few minutes. The snow is littered with pines and cones as he treks through it, about ankle high. 

He doesn't really know where he's going, but he follows his instincts that tell him to keep forward, until he comes upon a small clearing. The snow is thicker here and pure white. He kneels in the middle of it, places his hands over his knees, and waits. Listens. 

The soft howl of the wind, the sounds of the wildlife around him, the woodpeckers in the trees, the crisp sounds of the snow creaking underneath him. He breathes in the cold air, letting it fill his lungs, and exhales slowly. His nose is getting cold as well, having escaped from his woolen scarf.

He watches the rows and rows of trees before him and finds an order through them. The pine trees are still lustrous and green, almost an act of defiance to the other barren trees. 

He doesn't feel alone. A movement flickers at the corner of his eyes, and he turns his head to the retreating back of a small creature hurrying away. Something else peeks at him from behind a trunk, big round brown eyes full of curiosity. It disappears just as quickly.

A hand drops on his shoulder, gentle. "You shouldn't be here on your own."

"I'm not scared."

"That doesn’t mean it’s not dangerous. Why are you here, boy?"

Steve rubs his hands together, hoping to get back some sensation back into them. "I wanted to meet you."

Silence echoes his words. He holds his breath, suddenly nervous, thinking that maybe it might've been a bad idea. He seems to be full of those lately.

"I'm here now. I've been watching you."

"Just like you did with my mother?"

"Yes. A brilliant woman, she was." There's sorrow in his guttural voice. The air shifts behind Steve, hits the nape of his neck, and he swallows hard. 

Lug sits beside him in the snow. He looks... more human than he anticipated. 

"Is it true we're your descendants then?"

It sparks a laugh out of Him. "Wouldn't you like to know." His face turns more serious as He gestures around them. "This forest is old. Many live in it."

"Yes. We had to defend ourselves against something who seeked revenge."

"And your true self awoke from that encounter. It's no small feat to open a portal to another realm."

Steve shakes his head. "I don't know how I did it. I never managed to do any magic before, not like I've read in books. Only Loki's help made me realise what lied within me."

"Loki, you say? It explains why I couldn't... Mm, no matter. You were right on time." Lug smiles down at him, radiant as the summer sun. "Don't be scared of those powers. Embrace them."

He leans forward and lingers a kiss on his forehead. “ _Dúisigh_.”

Steve jerks awake. He's laying on his back in the clearing, and around him the snow is completely melted. A small fairy is sitting on his stomach, grinning at him, their wings fluttering endlessly. She accepts the dry fruits he offers her and flies away with a last giggle, leaving a blue trail behind her.

He returns home. Bucky is waiting for him there. He's brought back wine and some root vegetables he plans on using for a stew. 

"Bucky, I've an idea," he tells him during dinner.

"Should I be scared?"

Steve rolls his eyes at him. "When did any of my ideas ever gone wrong?” He ignores Bucky’s snort. “I've been thinking, I'd really like to start drawing again. Would you like to model for me?"

Bucky stares at him as he swallows his mouthful. "Why would you want that?"

"To draw in general or draw you?"

"Draw me. With this." He lowers his eyes to his stump. "Who wants to see this?"

"I do. You're beautiful, you'll always be beautiful to me. I wouldn't share that drawing with anyone else anyway."

A dust of pink darkens Bucky's cheeks."Why, you gotta draw me naked or something?"

Steve tilts his head, considering. "That's a good suggestion. Mm yes, I'm imagining it now, you laying at the foot of a tree, naked and only for me to admire."

Bucky presses his hand against his eyes, shaking his head. "You can't just say things like that and assume I won't act on them."

Steve reclines in his chair and gives him a wicked grin. "What are you waiting for, then?"

A few days later, he builds a small fairy house that he installs in the backyard. Flowers blossom from it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me on [Tumblr](http://cap-sweet-and-salty-sadness.tumblr.com/) and [Twitter](https://twitter.com/CaptainMarianna). I currently take commissions, you can find the infos on my Tumblr.


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